


Game for the Hunted

by WinterMunchkin05



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: INFINITY WAR AND ENDGAME ARE IGNORED, M/M, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Not Clint Barton Friendly, Not Steve Rogers Friendly, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Sexual Tension, The porn now has a sprinkle of plot, is the new game, not team Cap friendly, not wanda maximoff friendly, this fic is basically my excuse to write porn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:07:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 56,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21626542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinterMunchkin05/pseuds/WinterMunchkin05
Summary: We all know that apart from multiple PhDs in Engineering and Physics, Tony Stark also has a PhD in Denial.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Tony Stark
Comments: 375
Kudos: 631
Collections: Winteriron all the time





	1. Stoking the embers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sebsbuchananstan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sebsbuchananstan/gifts), [Corvixa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corvixa/gifts).



> Please be reminded that I am NOT a native ENGLISH speaker nor do I have a beta. All mistakes are my own and proceed with caution because this is **NOT TEAM CAP FRIENDLY.**
> 
> ***** To[sebsbuchananstan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sebsbuchananstan) this was born because FLIRTY BUCKY won't leave my head when we had that conversation about Bucky hitting on Tony in the comics.  
> **  
>  ***** To[Corvixa because we are exchanging fic babies now, you're also responsible for this one. This one's a bit ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corvixa)_naughty though. Plus, You inspired me to overcome my 4-5k writing range._  
>  **  
> ****

He didn’t know how or why.

The only explanation he could offer was that it was always there. Underneath all the hurt, the lies and anger, there was this unexplainable _thing_ between them that just wouldn’t go away. Not an itch to scratch, no, not lust…it was more but, it was most definitely _not_ love. Tony would know, he had loved other people at several points in his life.

He could confidently say that he didn’t love this man.

He could guess the _curiosity_ started when he addressed Barnes in that bunker, when he went after him and Rogers in Siberia. The man may have looked like he was focused whilst pointing the barrel of his rifle at Tony, but the moment Tony snapped a belligerent, ‘Hey Manchurian Candidate!’ it was clear in the way some life returned into his eyes that he hadn’t been completely there. Tony would say it wasn’t true if anyone asked, though his mind would probably just provide him images of the tears in the man’s eyes when he turned to him after watching how Barnes made him an orphan. The contrast it made with Rogers’ staunch lack of empathy back then was jarring enough that even in his grief, Tony’s subconscious preserved it well for him.

To let go of the excess baggage he had, he decided to send BARF to Wakanda. He just wanted the fighting to be over though he had not moved on from the hurt enough that he would be welcoming Rogers and the rest back with open arms. As such, he settled for the next best thing—helping Barnes. He didn’t know why his mind latched on to the idea of helping Barnes meant letting it all go. Maybe it was because Barnes had been the crux of the dilemma. Some would say he was projecting, perhaps, however no one could say that chasm between Steve and Tony was actually created by the Accords.

It wasn’t.

It never was.

It was all about trust and Steve ripped Tony’s to shreds to keep those he deemed worthy of his protection safe. He protected them magnificently.

At Tony’s expense.

* * *

Now, Rogers and his crew were back at the Compound. It took months of grueling negotiations to convince them to sign the Accords. Tony wasn’t stupid enough to assume that they would think he wasn’t going to lord it over their heads that his side ‘won’ the Civil War. They did always like to talk about his ego.

He would have preferred to stay at the Tower but the Accords Council were adamant that the Avengers needed to show a united front. Tony leaving the Compound the first time was part of the reasons the Avengers’ foundations got crippled and they didn’t want to risk anything happening with the Avengers divided, literally and figuratively. Tony wanted to shake his head at how and where in the world did they pull that stupidity out. Nice to know that even if they backed him on pushing the Accords, there were still some of them who believed that Rogers went rogue because he wasn’t there to look after him.

Tony almost laughed when the councilmember got to the part of ‘foundations’ in his spiel during that meeting. Foundations of the Avengers, really? The Avengers never had any solid foundation to begin with. And no matter how many accounts on Tumblr, Twitter or whatever social media platform claimed the contrary, he was _not_ Rogers’ damned wife who got scorned during what the social media called the ‘Uncivil Divorce’. It wasn’t his job to look after Rogers nor was he going to do so now.

Nonetheless, the world came first, above everything, thus any of his grievances regarding the Rogues had no choice but to stay locked up in his chest—even if seeing how BARF had helped Barnes _did_ lessen some of them.

He never heard a peep from the Rogues about that for he told T’challa explicitly to not mention anything about him or where had BARF come from. Shuri was of the mind to tell Barnes, but in the end, she respected his decision. It had been easy enough to dismiss any suspicion that the treatment was in any way connected to Tony. Wakanda was the most technologically advanced nation in the entire world, modifying his tech to resemble something more native had been a walk in the park for Shuri that it didn’t pique the suspicion of the nosier members of the Rogues.

Barnes, though, was different. Stoic and unmoving, yet full of sharp awareness that made him so lethal in the field. Like the name the Wakandans had blessed him with, Barnes silently watched everyone. The blues and grays in his eyes warring one another in every assessing stare and deepened when something caught his interest, like a wolf seduced by the call of the hunt. He would look for patterns, as snipers were wont to do, absorbing everything he could and then go in for the kill.

Tony would know.

He would always find himself caught by them.

That was how this _thing_ of theirs truly started after all.

* * *

There were times that he could feel ice glide over his skin, like fingers exposed to the winter winds, and he’d find Barnes’ eyes on him. No matter if there were people around, the man lived up to his own legend of not being noticed at all if he willed it so. Tony would swear on the Bible that he could _feel_ those eyes following the sweat sliding from his temple down to the side of his neck into his shirt’s collar during training. He would keep his eyes on Tony and it would stay until Tony returned his gaze or Barnes would simply turn away if he thought people would see. Albeit it was obvious to the engineer that Barnes didn’t care one whit if they did. Tony did.

A lot.

What would happen if the others got a sniff of whatever this was didn’t exactly make it nor would be listed on Tony’s priority list. He didn’t need the extra drama.

It was _maddening._

Yet what would drive him to almost burst out of his skin the most every time it happened? It was his flesh prickling over with cold but would be contrasted by the searing heat that seemed to seep underneath down to his bones and Barnes, damn him, knew.

His stoic countenance covering it up from the others but Tony could tell with how his eyes would go darker every time Tony had to look away. It was all Tony could do not to scream in frustration every time that damned glint in the man’s eyes just turned a bit sharper, making it all worse. He was a Stark and Stark men were made of iron. He would not run away like a rabbit faced with a predator. So he stayed and let the wolf continue with his play. He would not back down nor would he cave in.

Tony would chew his own arm off before he admitted that the secrecy and unexpectedness of it all was quite… _exciting_.

But as he had said, there’s no fucking way he’d let the others get wise about this.

Tony could tell the others had no clue about this little game of theirs. Just like how BARF was their secret. Tony could delude himself all he want but he wasn’t about to insult Barnes’ intelligence by pretending Barnes would have no way of knowing where the help came from. Judging from the way the man’s eyes gravitated toward Tony in quick flicks of blue and gray when he talked about his treatment and about how Shuri would sometimes complain that she appreciated the softer science more than the engineering in that mostly detached tone of his. Also from having that same reaction to the news of the Stark Industries’ venture into helping traumatized vets, Barnes had already put two and two together. That didn’t matter though. Whatever Barnes’ angle was, he would not accomplish anything. Tony would admit the game was fun and the thrill was _different_ from what he was used to but nothing would come out of it.

Or so he thought.

The thing about Tony though, as brilliant as he was, he would still end up getting fooled if people knew him enough. He said before that he wouldn’t insult Barnes’ intelligence yet there he went thinking that he’d win because he knew these types of games. He’d played them so many times before and he won all the time.

He was such a brilliant fool.

* * *

“Look Rogers, I really don’t want to talk about this right now. I still have to finish that R&D report for Pepper and the upgrades for the suit. Can’t this wait?” Tony grumbled as he rubbed his left temple with his hand in tight circles.

Rogers was waiting for him in the kitchen and he just came up to fetch some more coffee. Anyone could tell, even if Rogers tried to make it seem that this meeting was a coincidence with all the pencils and papers he had on the kitchen counter. Besides, it was seven o’ clock in the goddamn morning. Rogers’ routines were too ingrained to change. By this time, he should’ve been in the gym duking it out with whatever unfortunate gym equipment caught his attention—usually the sandbags.

The other Rogues’ routines though had changed when they came back to the Compound. Wilson spent more times in the library or the gym than the common room if he ever went out of his room outside team activities. Maximoff would drag Vision around the city or help him to dig around in the backyard for gardening, when she used to prefer staying in her room to watch Asian dramas and reality TV if there was no training. Barton split his time between his family’s home in Missouri and the Compound, unlike before where he stayed full time with the Avengers and played video games on his free time. Romanoff kept to reading her novels inside her room whereas she used to do it in the corner of the common room near the floor to ceiling glass window. Lang, on the other hand was a new resident and only starting to figure out what he could do around the Compound in his own spare time.

“Just a minute, Tony. I swear it won’t take long.” Rogers answered, blue-green eyes staring up at him quite beseechingly.

“Well? What is it?”

Rogers bit his lip and looked to the side, “I was wondering if—“

“There’s no more milk?”

The two of them jolted at the lazy drawl punctuated by the sound of the fridge closing. Tony’s heart nearly pushed itself up his throat. He turned to see Barnes, in his worn-out red Henley and a pair of gray sweatpants, looking at them expectantly. As though, they were the reason for his dairy apocalypse.

How the hell did Rogers _not_ hear his best friend sneaking up on them like that?

Rogers looked flustered, seemingly not expecting others to be around at this time and began fumbling with his words, “Maybe…maybe, you can…uhm, check the larder, Buck. There should be some in there.”

Barnes only nodded and opened the fridge again, “It’s fine, I’ll just eat something else. I’m not feeling cereals anymore.” He then proceeded to check every container for leftovers.

“Bucky...” Rogers grounded out, sounding weirdly embarrassed, “You like cereals, c’mon. FRIDAY confirmed that the groceries came in yesterday, you can look for milk in the pantry.”

“You’re not going to throw a hungry person out of the kitchen, are you Stevie?” Barnes asked dryly as he popped the container of—oddly enough—Tony’s reserved leftover samosas into the microwave along with a big container of Pad Thai. The billionaire got the feeling that Barnes was sort of getting a kick out of what on Earth was happening that Tony couldn’t understand.

“No, but...”Rogers rubbed the back of his neck and glanced at Tony from the corner of his eyes then back at Barnes, “okay…look, Buck—“

“Just pretend I’m not here, Steve. Say whatever you want to tell Stark, I’ll be out of your hair in a few minutes.” Barnes threw in casually before searching the cupboards for something. Tony nearly did a double take when he noticed that it was coffee grounds. The brunet supersoldier turned to the coffee machine and decided that brewing coffee was more important than the others’ existence at the moment.

Tony’s eyes narrowed as he stared at Barnes’ broad back. Okay, this was totally weirding him out. Rogers was trying to get Barnes out of the kitchen while Barnes was effortlessly shooting down every possible excuse Rogers could throw at him to do so without making it too obvious.

He turned to Rogers and crossed his arms over his chest, “Well? You heard the man. What is it?”

Rogers hesitated for a moment, looking at Barnes, who was taking a mug out of the shelf, as if expecting another interruption, “Tony, I was wondering if—“

This time, though, it wasn’t Barnes that cut whatever Rogers was about to say off but the beeping of the microwave.

“Sorry.”

The apology may as well have come out of Barnes’ nose for all the sincerity he poured into it. He even shot Rogers a probably what he thought passed for an apologetic look as he pulled the containers out. Totally missed by miles with how bland that look was.

Not that Rogers could tell, the blond was too busy glaring and silently fuming at the microwave. If the poor thing was able to, it would be scrambling to jump out of the window just to avoid Captain America’s fists.

Having had enough, Rogers took a deep breath and moved toward the counter to gather his stuff.

“What were you going to say, Rogers?” Tony prompted, better get whatever this was done and over with so he could get what he came into the kitchen for.

“It’s nothing. I already forgot what I was going to say.” Rogers smiled dimly.

Tony’s eyebrow kissed the ceiling at the flimsy fib. He had expected a better lie from the man, he had gotten the hang of it over the years. Case in point: Barnes.

Rogers winced as if he read Tony’s mind, “Really, it’s not important.”

Tony decided not to push and shrugged. It wasn’t his problem.

Barnes set his feast on the counter and tapped Rogers’ bicep with the back of his right hand, offering the Pad Thai, “Want some, Steve? There are samosas too, if you like.”

_Oh, rub whatever you did in his face more, why don’t you?_

Tony snorted mentally when he finally got it. Barnes was being passive-aggressively bitchy with Rogers for Thor knows what.

Rogers just huffed a bit of laugh and shook his head, “I’m good. I’ll see you at the training later, Buck.” He nodded at Tony, before going out of the dining area, “You too, Tony.”

Tony wanted to bash his own head against a wall. Apparently, Rogers was too blind about everything Bucky that he’d find the man’s bitching adorable but would raise all Hell with Tony’s more justified one.

* * *

When he was certain that Rogers was no longer within superhearing earshot, he moved closer to Barnes who was looking a tad too unbothered by his best friend’s retreat to be natural. He took a seat at the counter in front of Barnes and snapped at him.

“What was that about?”

Barnes only pushed the samosas in front of Tony along with a cup of coffee before handing him a fork, “Relax, I know Steve wouldn’t really eat your samosas. He likes the noodles better. ”

Without thinking, Tony snatched the fork from his hand and viciously stabbed a samosa with it, “That’s not what I’m asking about, Barnes.”

“I’m afraid you’d have to be more specific.” He murmured, taking a bite of his noodles while looking straight into Tony’s eyes. He kept the eye contact for about four seconds as he chewed, not that Tony was counting, “Not gonna eat?”

Tony blinked twice before grumbling, “You’re really not answering the question.” He looked down at his container and took a bite of his already stabbed pastry goodness. He was not sulking.

“I did. You’re just not clear with what you want, Stark.”

There was an insinuation in there somewhere that he decided to ignore. Tony rolled his eyes and took a gulp of his coffee, “Stop trying to act dumb, Barnes. It doesn’t suit you.”

“While I appreciate that you seem to have a high regard for my mental capacity, I’m actually serious. You’ve got to be more specific with what you’re asking because I ain’t got a clue.”

Tony’s lips pressed into a line as he felt the flash of frustration course through him. This was the first time he had a conversation with the man out of his lab that didn’t have anything to do with maintenance for his metal arm. He would been, not jumping-for-joy happy, more like contented in a well-what-do-you-know-he-could-talk-in-sentences-too kind of way if only the man was not being deliberately obtuse. The double entendres, too, were not helping. Or maybe it was just Tony thinking there was something hidden in everything that Barnes said when there was none.

“Really? Knock it off, will you? Because we’re not doing this.”

Barnes was amused because he raised an eyebrow, “What exactly, Stark? We’re not really doing anything.” He gently took the mug out of Tony’s hand and took a sip on the exact same part Tony’s lips touched the ceramic.

Tony felt his mouth go dry as those damned eyes sharpened from behind the rim of the mug. His mind had already supplied the missing adverb at the end of that statement.

Dammit all to hell.

He had no way to retreat and they have never done this up close. Not even in the lab, then again, Rogers always insisted on monitoring whenever he had something to fix on Barnes’ arm, even if Tony only let him stay by the workshop’s entrance. And now, Barnes had a front row seat to see how this _thing_ of theirs was messing with him.

“You damn well know what I mean. I’m talking about earlier, with Rogers.” Tony grouched, backpedaling to their original topic because what did he say to guys who try to mess with him? Not today, asshole. At least, that’s what a Stark or another said, whatever.

“There we go, clarification.” Barnes returned the mug in front of him, his face was all nonchalant yet the bite of smugness in his comeback was unmistakable, “That wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

Tony only sipped his coffee and gave Barnes a look that said he was going to leave if Barnes continued being an ass.

Message received because the man scoffed, “I just got you out of sitting through nine innings of a sport you don’t really like and listening to Steve point out how the Dodgers should have stayed in Brooklyn.”

Tony jerked back, “Wait, what?”

“You’re welcome.” Barnes took the mug from him again, they were apparently sharing the beverage. Seriously, he brewed a whole pitcher of coffee, the least he could do was get a cup of his own and leave Tony’s mug alone.

He was about to take his turn in asking for _actual_ clarification when Barnes’ eyes narrowed and slid to the entryway. He set the mug down before Tony and continued eating his Pad Thai, looking like he wasn’t doing anything to Tony’s mug seconds ago.

“What’s on the menu?” From the entryway came a familiar, breathy voice.

* * *

Tony looked behind him to see Romanoff walking closer to them, she was wearing that light purple sweater she stole from Barton and black leggings. The black and red hand-embroidered pashmina Tony got her for Christmas after New York wrapped around her shoulders.

“Leftover noodles and samosas.”

Romanoff gave him a small smirk before moving to open the fridge and pulling out the carton of orange juice. After pouring herself a glass, she sat beside Tony.

“May I have some, Tony?”

Out of habit more than anything, Tony absent-mindedly placed his fork back in the container for her to use. She did like samosas, they used to share a whole order between the two of them before. Barnes’ voice snapped like a whip the moment she reached for the utensil making her pause, her hand hovering a bit awkwardly over the container.

“Get your own food, Natalia. There’s plenty in the fridge.”

Her gaze moved directly into Barnes’ in a silent challenge. Romanoff’s eyes reduced into emerald slits but Barnes gave her no quarter until she retrieved her hand, losing the standoff.

“There better be more samosas in the fridge then, Tony.” She told him blithely, gracefully moving away to rummage for said dish in the fridge.

“Well, I’ll be off. I need to get back to some more stuff in the lab.” Tony declared, the atmosphere no longer as _electrifying_ as it had been. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he was grateful for Romanoff appearing out of the blue, tactical retreat was needed. Barnes only gave him a nod and Romanoff, who was now placing another container of takeaway into the microwave, let out an ‘okay’. He grabbed his container in one hand and the cup in the other then made his way out of the dining area to his lab.

* * *

The next round of their apparently leveled up _staring_ _contest,_ because he truly had no idea what to call it, happened during training. He wouldn’t dare call it _flirting_ because one: Tony looked good but he was already in his mid-forties and Barnes was, technically, a decade younger, the man could do much better. Two: that’s too audacious, even for him because Barnes stared at everyone like they’ve done him wrong all the time—resting murder bitch face was his default setting, the man was intense like that. Three: Rogers, need he say more?

And last, but definitely not the least: his parents. Frankly, they should’ve been at the top of the list. If Rhodey were with him, Honeybear would wrinkle his nose at how much of a… _trollop_ Tony was being. Ugh, he had fought hard enough to move away from that version of himself. He could clearly hear the exasperation in Rhodey’s voice in his head.

_Dammit, Tones. Barnes, really? I know you thought he was cool when we were younger but c’mon, man. Do I have to remind you of why that’s such a bad idea?_

Bad, bad Tony.

Barnes was brainwashed and controlled into becoming a killing machine, he was not at fault—no one would blame the gun instead of the shooter. He was tried and proven innocent. Tony had even let the lawyers pry into what he had saved of Howard’s old things related to the Howling Commandos for evidence, but still. The _awkwardness_ would be stratospheric and he didn’t want to think about what his mother or Thor forbid, Howard would say. His father would be marching over to the Compound the moment he found out to give Tony a piece of his mind if he was able to. Tony shuddered at the thought.

No, he didn’t need the reminders. But Tony was weak and bad ideas were Tony’s _kryptonite._ He could only hope he’ll get lucky and this would be something he could laugh at in the, preferably near, future.

* * *

By this time, he should’ve known to pay more attention and not let his wayward thoughts run around freely. They all met up at the training room exactly three hours after that weird breakfast he had with Barnes. The agenda for the training session was sparring by pairs.Whoever assigned the team-ups was clearly fucking with him because he was paired with Barnes, of all people.

He would’ve taken on Barton or Wilson. Hell, even Rogers because reasons demanded it. Forget about Romanoff because he liked his lungs where they were and Maximoff, for obvious reasons. There was no way he would land a punch on Vision, unless he wanted to meet the mat face first if the synthezoid phased through him. He knew Lang could pack a wallop if he wanted to, being trained by Hope van Dyne, but hitting him felt too much like kicking a puppy and Tony already had enough on his plate for his guilt complex.

When Barton got Lang to tap out with a chokehold, it was his and Barnes’ turn on the mat. He only faced Barnes once before, without the suit, in Berlin. It wasn’t much of a reference because even if he disassembled the man’s gun within seconds, he got knocked down in the next. With the others, bar Lang, he had a grasp of how they move or at least what he could do to defend himself. He was in open water here.

“Just do what you did in Berlin.” Barnes told him as they settled on the opposite ends of the mat.

Tony frowned. Was he being that obvious?

“You’re thinking awfully loud, Stark. Stop thinking and just attack.”

The note of impatience in Barnes’ voice did it and Tony reacted recklessly. In retrospect, Tony should’ve been more than aware that he couldn’t take the Winter Soldier head on because the moment he got close enough to give Barnes a right hook to the temple, he forgot his guard and left his torso open. Barnes seized the opportunity to grab his neck with his metal arm, same as what he did to Romanoff in Germany, lifting him up a foot from the ground. Tony’s body, in oxygen deprivation-induced panic, remembered the maneuver Romanoff taught him before.

He clamped his hands tightly on the metal arm for leverage and hooked his legs over Barnes’ shoulder to strangle him with them. Barnes, recognizing the move, proceeded to slam him down onto the mat beneath them. Tony let out a choked groan when his back met the surface, though he felt Barnes’ grip on his neck loosen considerably. With the surge of much needed air in his system, he found enough strength to surprise Barnes and roll him onto his back using his legs that were still hooked over the man’s shoulders. They ended up with Barnes lying on his back and Tony straddling him.

Tony’s chest was heaving as he looked down at Barnes. The other brunet returned his gaze steadily. With lidded eyes, Barnes’ gaze moved away from his and slowly traveled down Tony’s body then back up in that same agonizing pace.

The billionaire froze, he just realized how suggestive their position was. Considering the way Barnes was looking at him, he thought so too. His knees were bracketing either side of the man’s head, his ass almost resting on top of the supersoldier’s chest.

_Jesus Christ._

He was practically sitting on Barnes’ face.

He felt heat creep up his neck because Barnes, the asshole that he was, could tell what Tony was thinking. The assassin looked pointedly at Tony’s crotch before meeting his eyes. Those gray ones were simultaneously dark and sparkling with _something_.

His crotch and Barnes’ face…nothing wrong with that, right?

The palm of Barnes’ metal hand, now that Tony was taking stock, was resting on top of his right thigh, thumb lightly rubbing against the fabric of Tony’s sweatpants near the inside of his thigh. The man only needed to lean his head forward and he would be burying his face into Tony’s groin. _Thank fuck_ his sweatpants were baggy enough to conceal a hard on was the only thought that echoed inside his head when he felt that thumb move just a tiny bit _closer_ to the more sensitive patch of skin up his thigh. Sparks of electricity danced in his nerves at the contact and prompted the muscles in his thighs to quiver delicately and his eyes to flutter.

“Hey, Stark! For how long are you going to sit on Barnes’ face?”

What the hell were they doing?

Fuck.

* * *

Tony jumped at the sound of Barton’s voice, almost making his hips meet those few inches with said face. It was lucky that Tony had his back on the others, so they don’t really see what’s going on. The embarrassment would be even more unbearable otherwise. He went to his feet as fast as he could whilst ensuring that there won’t be any and even more inappropriate contact with Barnes, nearly tripping over his feet.

Barnes languidly went back to his feet after Tony got off him. He cringed. Damn, that didn’t come out right. Tony almost wished there was some scumbag that needed to be apprehended because the look Barnes quickly gave him from beneath his eyelashes and the tiny quirk of the corner of those damned lips told the engineer that Barnes had an inkling as to what he was cringing about. They went back to the side of the training room where the rest were gathered and Tony avoided looking at Barnes as he took a swig of juice from his tumbler.

“Who’s next?” Barnes asked the others, diffusing whatever thoughts they would have about what just happened and Barton’s lewd, not-really-off-the-mark comment. It was the subtle command in his voice that reminded Tony of the fact that Barnes actually _had_ experience when it came to leadership. That he went through the wringer to be given a rank and acquire the aforementioned leadership rather than through being souped up with some high-end steroid and handed a field promotion because it worked.

“Nat and Sam, you’re up.” Rogers answered with a small frown, and before the aforementioned pair made it to the mat he turned to the engineer, “Tony, you can sit down for a bit or if you want I can bring you to the med bay.”

“Why the hell would I need to go to the med bay? I’m fine.” He snapped at him before taking another gulp.

“Tony, your neck is starting to bruise and you limped on your way here. Bucky might have blown your back hard.” Rogers insisted, obviously unaware of the way his words sounded to the rest of them.

Tony sputtered at the images spawned by that statement. Barnes covertly rubbed his back with his right hand, not saying a word but Tony heard a low, gruff noise that might have been a chuckle from under the taller man’s breath. The heat from the palm on his back and that sound made its way low into his abdomen and he felt something stir to life. Nope, Tony was not touching that with a ten-foot pole. He straightened his back a little and Barnes seemed to have gotten the memo and removed his hand. _Good._

The universe was being kind to Tony at that moment, not only did no one notice that Barnes got his hand on him—yes, innuendo galore, eh?—it also decided to give him an out for that ridiculous statement. Barton and Wilson snorted, Lang’s head whipped so fast to look at Rogers with wide eyes, Vision was honest to Thor covering his face with his palm, Maximoff’s face crumpled with disgust and Romanoff was smirking. He kept his face on Rogers, he didn’t want to see the look on Barnes.

“Damn Cap.” Wilson snickered, shoulders shaking with laughter.

Rogers went a brilliant shade of red when his words finally hit home, “No! God, Tony…I’m sorry, That’s not what I meant!”

“Whatever, Rogers. I still stand by what I said, I’m fine.” Tony replied, taking a step back when Rogers made a move that seemed like he was reaching for him, uncaring at how Rogers looked like he got kicked where it hurt the most. He did find it odd that Rogers didn’t address Barnes, though. Seemed like the blond oaf finally caught on to his buddy’s passive-aggressive bitching from earlier and was fighting back—using Tony. Only Rogers would find it okay to use another person as both buffer and, pun definitely intended, a shield for his bullshit.

“Well, can’t blame you, Steve. Stark was pretty comfy sitting on Barnes’ face earlier.” Barton jeered, wrinkling his nose at the billionaire.

“Nah, man. Don’t.” Lang protested weakly, unsure if Barton was teasing or actually insulting Tony.

Maximoff’s sneer went a shade cruel as she added airily, “It’s known that Stark would quickly jump into bed with anyone who offered. He’s always been shameless.”

What fragile illusion of _peace_ they had crumbled the moment Barton spoke up and was completely decimated by Maximoff’s comment. 

Tony felt Barnes’ frame stiffen behind him. He turned to glance at Barnes and found that Siberia would be a goddamn fireplace—blankets, hot cocoa, marshmallows and all—with how cold the look in those stormy gray eyes was.

“Wanda.” Rogers’ tight tone sliced through the silence, “That’s enough.”

Tony inwardly sighed.

_You’re a little too late there, buddy._

The young woman only shrugged, “It’s the truth, we can find it all over the internet.”

“She’s right, Cap. Hell, he practically holds the world record for most viewed sex tapes.” Barton laughed.

“Dude, that was uncalled for.” Wilson chimed in that only made Maximoff roll her eyes.

“We didn’t say anything wrong.”

“Wanda—“

Tony interrupted yet another one of Rogers’ I-will-talk-to-Wanda-she’s-just-a-kid-okay sessions but not for his own benefit, _theirs_. The supersoldier behind him was emitting deadly calm and he felt the minute shift of Barnes’ demeanor from cold to utterly unforgiving, “I think I’ll head down to the med bay after all. I mean, who would really be able to walk straight after going on a roll with a supersoldier?” he smiled at them and with a touch of lascivious in his voice, he leered at Barton, “Though I must say, I’m surprised with you Barton. I think I’ll give your arrows an upgrade just this once to show my appreciation of your invaluable efforts in helping my greatest hits achieve a world record for most views.”

When the archer sputtered at that he turned to the witch, “As for you, sweet little Wanda, we might have to talk about the proper use of internet later. Wouldn’t want to corrupt that innocent mind of yours with all the awful things you _happened_ to find online, now would we?”

Romanoff let out a dainty cough that didn’t really mask the amusement she clearly felt. The Black Widow only showed what she wanted people to see, which meant that was intentional. She glared at Barton when he looked at her for support, effectively muzzling him. Tony might have to look into that later, he was still burned by Romanoff’s wishy-washy loyalties. This was a sign that the spider was about to climb the waterspout.

The young witch’s eyes became a kaleidoscope of negative emotions before settling with fury. Her face flushed with indignation and the sickening red of her powers began slithering around her slim fingers.

* * *

Barnes was in front of Tony in a flash, a knife in his hand and snarling as he lunged at Maximoff. It happened so fast that the witch would’ve been stabbed in the eye if Rogers, her knight and savior, hadn’t immediately stepped in between them and Vision who pulled her aside to safety.

“Bucky! Stop!” he shouted, grabbing Barnes’ hand, “You don’t want to attack Wanda! She’s our friend!”

Barnes wrenched his wrist out of Rogers’ grip and growled, “I do actually, and you’re even more fucked in the head than I am if that’s your idea of how a friend acts, Steve.” He spared the shaken witch a seething glare, “Now, if you really don’t want me to show you all how her sneer would look if it's carved into her throat, she better stand the fuck down.”

“You can’t mean that, Buck.” Rogers gasped in horror, “She didn’t mean any of it, she’s a kid!”

The swift way bleakness had written itself onto Barnes’ features in place of wrath was a glaring evidence of how daft he thought Rogers was being that Tony had to hold back a laugh.

“Between the two of us _Stevie_ ,” the way Barnes drawled the nickname in his Brooklyn accent cut much more than a newly forged katana that even the rest of them winced, “I’m the one who got his brain scrambled in a blender for decades but I still know what a child is. And _that_ ” he jammed a thumb at Maximoff’s direction, “sure as hell ain’t one. Caterin’ to her every whim doesn’t make her one either.”

Wilson moved between them to calm both soldiers down, “Guys, c’mon. We all just got to the team back together. Don’t mess this up for something so petty.”

Barnes might’ve had a whiplash with how quick his head turned toward the Airman in equal rage and disbelief, “Are you for fucking real?”

Tony closed his eyes briefly with a huff. _Pettiness_. That’s one way to put it. Way to go, Wilson. Tony would prepare something to talk him up in his funeral after Barnes was done with him, maybe something along the lines of how gallant he was and shit.

It was Romanoff, however, that got the situation to de-escalate in the patented Black Widow fashion.

“Sam, I still need to choke you with my thighs, remember?” She suddenly piped up from beside him, hip cocked to the side and a sultry smirk on her lips, “Or would you rather play with the boring fossils?”

All three men turned to her in various levels of surprise, bemusement and irritation before they began moving away from each other. Just like that, all the testosterone in the air dissipated. Tony grudgingly admitted to himself that no matter how many times he had seen it, it was still equal parts terrifying and impressive. No one wanted to mess with an impatient Natasha Romanoff.

When she passed by Barnes on her way to the mat, she said something in a language Tony couldn’t recognize and the soldier only nodded his head before replying in the same tongue.

Fucking polyglot assassins.

From the look of the others in the room, even Barton who worked with Romanoff the longest, they didn’t know what language it was either. Vision, possibly, but the synthezoid was not one to gossip.

Since the fanfare was done and over with, Tony decided to grab his gym bag and move out of the training room, “Okay, great training session guys. I’ll just be in the med bay to get my injuries treated.”

Rogers made his way over to him, “I’ll go with you, Tony.”

He leveled the man with a look so unimpressed Harley would crow in delight, “Fuck no. I can get there myself.”

“Tony—“

There was immense satisfaction in closing the door in Steven Grant Rogers’ puppy eyed face.

* * *

Despite telling the others that he was going to the med bay, Tony went to his room for a quick change of clothes and a shower before going to his lab. He wasn’t lying when he told Rogers he was fine. His back was sore but it would fade away later, he had bruises around his throat from Barnes’ grip but he had always bruised easily like a damn peach. As for his ‘ _limping’,_ it was for a totally _different_ reason.

Majority of the organisms that belonged to the Y chromosome were aware of the difficulty presented by vascular congestion, or the beginnings of it, in certain parts of their anatomy when it came to mobility. Tony only needed to get away from the _cause_ of said bodily process and a freezing shower for it to subside. The circus show, pun not intended, with Barton and Maximoff earlier, helped to keep it from going full throttle, thus he was able to walk away with not much problem.

Tony shook his head in wry amusement.

From the myriads of things the universe could choose from that he would be grateful to those two for, it had to be this one. What the fuck was his life.

He was already pulling apart the holographic image of the Quinjet that got busted from the last mission—the Avengers were sent in to clean up a HYDRA cell found in Ohio, of all places—when he heard someone speak behind him.

“You know Steve will be charging in here like a tank if he finds out that you skipped med bay, right?”

Tony whipped around to see the soldier causally leaning against the edge of the workbench a few feet behind the smaller man, “Christ, Barnes. Seriously, can you please stop with the sneaking up thing? I have a heart condition for fuck’s sake.”

Great. The cause of earlier bodily situation just had to find him.

* * *

Barnes only tipped his head to the side, feigning interest in his flesh hand’s nails, “I didn’t sneak up on you, FRIDAY announced that she’d let me in. Not that you were listening.”

Not to be outdone, he frowned and called for his girl, “FRIDAY?”

“Yes, boss?”

“Did you tell me that Barnes would come in?”

Barnes clucked his tongue and shook his head, “Whatever makes you sleep at night, Stark. FRIDAY’s a sweet and proper young miss, she’s no liar.”

He snorted and leaned back on his rolling chair, Barnes was buttering up to his baby, “Shut up, Barnes.”

FRIDAY’s mellifluous cadence filled the lab as she defended her new favorite person. “Sergeant Barnes is not codding ya, Boss. I asked you twice if we will let him in _._ You gave permission and told me quote unquote, sure okay, baby girl.”

The sound of Tony’s palm smacking his own forehead echoed in the lab before it slid down his face, “FRI, you should have confirmed it with me first.”

Barnes chuckled when FRIDAY, his baby girl, actually _harrumphed_ and grounded out her answer, “I did. _Twice_.”

Tony gasped, clutching his chest like a socialite mother would a string of pearls around her neck, “What the…” he turned to Barnes, eyes narrowing as he mock glowered, “ _You._ This is all your fault. All your weird ass flirting has gone into her code! She’s always been a good girl. Now look, she’s going against her daddy!”

Mirth was radiating from Barnes as he smirked at Tony, moving away from the table towards where he sat. All lithe grace and subtle power in the flex of his long legs that Tony had to tear his eyes away from them. Tony stifled an actual gasp when he realized that Barnes was leaning over him, hands on the edge of the table behind Tony and caging the genius in.

_Dammit._

The wolf was on the prowl and he had scented weakness in his chosen prey.

* * *

Tony felt his fingers dig into the armrest of his chair. How his hands got there, he didn’t know. Barnes moved closer and there was only centimeters separating their faces. Tony had no idea where to look, at Barnes’ supple mouth or into his dark, lidded eyes.

“ _Some_ children take after their parents, Stark.” Barnes answered, voice thick and slowly dripping over Tony like pure molasses. The emphasis Barnes placed on the first word took his breath away. They both knew what the soldier truly meant with his words. Barnes was separating him from Howard while putting him closer to the children he lovingly invented. He felt his chest tighten and the telltale stinging behind his eyes. For this man to give him a portion of what he had always wanted wrapped in such simple words.

He shivered when Barnes shifted and slid the index finger of his metal hand up and down his throat. Barely touching and tracing what probably was a mottled brand of blue and purple around his neck. The metal a cool, ghostly kiss on his steadily burning skin.

“And you know what I think?” Barnes continued in that same voice, catching Tony’s eyes with his, “FRIDAY inherited not just brilliance but also a real good amount of fight from her father.”

Tony turned his head aside and felt panic build inside him.

He couldn’t do this.

He couldn’t.

This was too much.

“Shh, breathe.” Barnes said, voice no longer the seductive rumble from earlier but no less alluring, as he gently used the same finger to tilt Tony’s head back to face him, scratching against his goatee, “Breathe, Tony.”

A watery gasp escaped the genius’ chest as he inhaled and kept his eyes trained on Barnes.

 _“Good._ Now listen to me, Tony. People are different and people change. You’re _not_ Howard, you’re no longer the Tony Stark from those tapes and you’re not the same Tony Stark that the Avengers knew.”

Tony took a gulp of air and released a wobbly laugh, “You speak like you know me.”

“Because, I do.” Barnes confidently replied.

Tony felt his irritation flare at Barnes’ words and scowled “That’s pretty fucking presumptuous of you, Barnes.”

Whatever reprieve Tony got from earlier had been consumed because the tenderness from before gave way to the return of the wolf—dark eyes along with that small, _sinful_ smirk.

“It's true that I’d never know the Tony Stark that Howard raised and the one in those tapes online, the same for the man who became Iron Man years ago, but I do know the Tony Stark in front of me.” The metal hand slid from Tony’s chin to his nape, fingers slipping through his hair and clenched _just_ _so_.

That silent yet singeing thrum of energy that always seemed to surround them was becoming thicker than before and Tony felt himself go a bit pliant as Barnes guided him to his feet with the hand tangled in his hair, “Oh? What does the James Buchanan Barnes of today _know_ about Tony Stark now?” he breathed as he stared up at Barnes underneath his eyelashes. His own hands found their own way to grab fistfuls of the soldier’s, yet another, long sleeved Henley.

Barnes moved closer and his eyes catching on Tony’s mouth, “Well, I can say a lot of things but, I’ve already mentioned what I appreciate the most.” His flesh hand found purchase around Tony’s waist, bringing their bodies closer.

Oh, this was another part of their _game_. This was because they both knew that looks, no matter how exciting, were no longer enough. They needed more. Thus, they were pushing each other to see who would break first. Tony vowed not to. Not because he was a Stark. All because he was Iron Man and a battle-hardened wolf would not push him around.

Their breaths were mingling, Tony’s were coming and going in short little intakes as if the oxygen between them was dwindling by the second, “And that is?”

“He has a lot of fight in him.”

* * *

Tony almost didn’t get to hear what Barnes said as their lips crashed together. His hands scrambled to move from Barnes’ chest to encircle his neck, pulling him closer by his hair. That _strength_ and _heat_ of him wrapping around Tony as their mouths melded together had the genius repaying it with a groan. Barnes swallowed the sound and let out a rumble deep in his chest in answer, his flesh hand moving to grip Tony’s hip as he directed him to the nearest surface.

He let out a hiss as he felt the edge of the desk dig into his lower back as the supersoldier pushed him against it. Never let it be said that the Winter Soldier wasted any opportunity because a thick, muscular thigh pushed its way in between his legs the same time Barnes’ tongue made its way into his mouth. Tony welcomed both and he couldn’t help the impulsive minute rocks of his hips against the solid heat that touched his groin.

And if he thought the kiss was already hungry with how their mouths, slick and warm, fused and slid against each other, he was wrong. Barnes took it to another step the moment he felt Tony rut against his thigh. 

Barnes fucking _devoured_ his mouth like a starved man who had never known food.

The desperation Barnes had woven into every meeting of their flesh was unlike everything he had ever known and everything he would ever need.

It was almost animalistic.

Feral.

Dirty.

 _Perfect_.

The hand on his hip descended lower, warm palm settling on Tony’s ass and _squeezed,_ enough to erase doubt that it’d leave a bruise. Tony moaned low in his throat that Barnes squeezed his ass again and pulled Tony’s hair back, exposing the full arch of his neck. Both actions were done in that _delicious_ manner that toed the fine line between pleasure and pain, making him rake his nails across the man’s shoulders and be more persistent in pushing hips up against his thigh, his knees squeezing to dig into dense, hard muscles for leverage.

It was the heat or maybe it was that thrumming energy that kept ratcheting between them that pushed Tony to wrap his legs around Barnes’ trim hips as the man lifted and manhandled him up against the wall. Perhaps, it was the lingering tang of the mouthwash mixed with that taste that he was starting to think of as _Barnes_ as their tongues tangled and battled for dominance, he didn’t know. He whined when Barnes tore his mouth away from his but was immediately replaced by a moan when the man began to press open mouthed kisses at the hollow of his throat, followed by the little nicks of teeth that made him tremble. 

The press of that thickness in Barnes’ jeans against his own had Tony’s eyes fluttering close and him squirming to get closer. Barnes nipped and sucked at that sensitive area behind his ear to distract him before using the hand holding Tony up to move the billionaire’s hips in an undulating motion as he ground against him.

“Oh, shit.” Tony gasped when the soldier’s hips rolled _scrumptiously_ in the cradle of his. "God, yes..."

A chuckle reverberated in the edges of Tony’s consciousness, forcing him to open his eyes. Black pushed the grays and blues in Barnes’ eyes into thin rings. Hunger and desire reflected back into pools of brown.

“You like that?”

“Fuck _yes_. Now, get naked.” He snapped before clawing at the man’s shirt. Barnes caught both of his wrists with his metal hand and pushed them above his head.

“No. I wanna see you like this.”

“Fuck you Barnes.” He hissed. Like hell, he was going to come in his clothes.

Barnes grinned before leaning in to give one of his earlobes a quick suck and a sharp nip, making Tony release a sharp breath, then growled “You asked for it.”

That hand on his hip moved Tony again, this time meeting the faster, harsher grind of Barnes’ hips, “ _Jesus_. Fuck, Barnes.” He almost wailed, his blunt nails digging into his palms at the heightened sensations. If that wasn’t enough, Barnes coupled it with sucking more bruises on that ticklish part of Tony’s neck, the juncture where his neck met with his shoulder.

Barnes widened his stance to hike the genius’ free leg over his thick thigh, opening the smaller man wider, and without even disturbing the flow of his movements. He continued in that brutal, torturous pace for several more minutes that Tony felt like crying. He was so close. 

_So fucking close_.

To think that they both have yet to shed any article of clothing. 

“Can I leave a mark?”

That little bit hope in the rasping whisper told Tony that Barnes wanted it bad enough to ask. “This…ah, coming from the man who _already—_ shit _—gave_ me dozens before asking?”

Taking Tony’s snippy answer as the permission that it really was, Barnes sank his teeth into that sensitive juncture breaking skin as he gave a particularly hard thrust. Overstimulation mixed with the pain fired multiple assaults on Tony's senses as he came.

White spots floated in Tony’s vision when he regained his senses, the harsh, loud gasps that escaped from his lips were coalescing with Barnes’ grunts while he was suckling on the bite mark he gave Tony.

Tony whined when he felt Barnes’ erection still digging into his groin. Goddamnit, he just came and he was still feeling like a ball of raw nerves. He pulled against the metal hand that clamped on his wrists like vise and Barnes released him. With shaking hands, he fumbled with the man’s fly and shoved one hand down his boxers.

“Fucking hell.” Barnes hissed as he felt Tony’s hand wrap around his leaking cock. Tony let out a pleased noise at the back of his throat at the feel of _him—hot,_ long, almost the same width as his wrist and hard enough to nail diamonds. In retaliation, Barnes pulled at the ends of Tony’s hair at his nape and bringing their mouths together again. The sliver of copper mixing with _Barnes_ and that peppermint chemical tang just made it even better. Tony gripped Barnes’ cock hard at the base and slowly twisted his wrist up before bringing it back down, precome slicking the motions. Barnes groaned, his hips snapping up to fuck into Tony’s fist.

The genius already knew he had rather feminine hands for a man, despite all the work he did when he was in the lab and with the fighting. Seeing his hand wrapped around Barnes’s dick though, made them look positively _elfin._ Barnes wasn’t exactly a small man and of course, with the serum, he’s bound to have some _upgrades_. While he hated HYDRA to the core and the way Barnes got his dose was unfortunate, all Tony could think about right now was _God bless super soldier serum._

He didn’t realize that he had spoken out loud when the soldier laughed, low and rough, as he nipped at Tony’s lower lip in playful seduction, “That’s not all serum, Stark.”

“Even better.” He sighed and brought his other hand down between them, knowing that Barnes wouldn’t let him fall. The one hand that was already working on his cock squeezed just so before pressing a thumb against the bulging vein that ran on the side. The other’s palm rubbed at the sensitive head, letting the slightly rough texture of his calluses to meet the heated flesh, spreading more of the precome all over. Barnes seemed to enjoy that one because the rhythm of his thrusts turned into spasmic jerks and he was babbling.

“Jesus Christ, _your hands._ Ugh, so good. They feel so fucking good.” He panted against Tony’s neck.

Well, who was he to deny him?

Thus, he repeated the action a few more times—because super soldier stamina—and choked on a moan, when Barnes’ teeth clamped down again on his neck as he came. Thick ropes of warm cum doused his hands and staining their clothes. Barnes shivered as Tony continued to jerk him off as he rode his orgasm.

 _“God,_ Tony. That was perfect. _You’re_ perfect.” Barnes groaned, pressing his lips against the column of Tony's neck. 

Barnes left the nook of his neck to kiss him, slow, sensual and much more intimate now that the heated frenzy has cooled down a bit. Tony suckled on his tongue and wrapped his arms around Barnes’ shoulders, uncaring if he was soiling the man’s clothes with his own spend. He made Tony cum in his sweatpants after all.

The sound of blaring sirens ringing in the lab made both of them jerk away from each other, Barnes almost dropping him in surprise and Tony hitting his head on the wall behind him.

“FRIDAY, turn it off!” Tony yelled, as he leaned on Barnes for support when the soldier gently set him back on his feet, a far cry from the ravenous man that rutted like a beast in heat against him moments ago.

“What’s going on?” Barnes asked, righting his clothes with his left hand and holding Tony against his chest with the other.

FRIDAY answered, activating a holoscreen that show Rhodey walking down the hallway, “Colonel Rhodes has arrived at the Compound. He’s on the way here to the lab. ETA seven minutes.”

Both of their eyes snapped to one another, reality crashing down on them along with the feel of the marks they left on each other as well as the cooling cum stuck on their skin and clothes.

Tony could see the question in Barnes’ eyes.

_Now, what?_


	2. Call of the hunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Will you come up with a cute excuse why I am here?_  
>  Make me play along and act?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW...thank you all so much for the **amazing response you gave this fic.  
>  My apologies for not updating fast enough. A lot of things came up and also, I sprained my left wrist. I'm a lefty so it's kinda hard to type. Anyways, enough excuses. Enjoy!**
> 
> ****  
> **WARNING: SOME PARTS MAYBE TRIGGERING. PROCEED WITH CAUTION. NOT TEAM CAP FRIENDLY**  
> ****
> 
> ****  
> **  
> **  
> _HAPPY HOLIDAYS, EVERYONE!_  
> **  
> **

He could almost see the way, _taste_ even, the threads of emotions that writhed and tangled in Stark’s eyes. The sourness of panic, the bittersweet mix of regret and yearning that cuts through the overwhelming savory spice of satiation experienced moments ago. Fuck, if the heady cocktail they create didn’t make his mouth water. The zing of thrill lacing his palate as well made it all the more delicious.

_Almost as delectable as the man himself._

He kept his eyes on Stark and conveyed a question through them, even if he already knew both the answer and the outcome.

_Now, what do you want us to do?_

He resisted the urge to smile as Stark blinked. Oh, it’s just _so_ _fucking beautiful_. Stark’s mind that was. The man was already calculating ways on how they’d get out of this. Variables and scenarios flew faster than bullets in the depths those lovely eyes before picking one that would end with the least danger for them both. Something, that might have been a semblance of a _heart_ , swelled in his chest.

What a sweetheart.

_Will you come up with a cute excuse why I am here?_

_Make me play along and act?_

_Then again, we both know you’ll send me away, right,_ кукла _?_

Like a well-detailed map, he had pinned the split-second moment Stark made the decision to get him out of the lab, away from Rhodes.

Stark opened his mouth and Bucky cut him off,

“I have to go, right?” he said succinctly, hiding the sick amusement that tickled him when the man looked a bit taken aback, like he always was when Bucky voiced or implied that he was capable of following his thought process.

_I’m no genius, doll. You just happen to wear your heart on your sleeve and that pretty face of yours is just too damn expressive for your own good._

Stark bit the inside of his cheek and nodded which made that _utterly_ _demented_ part of Bucky purr with delight because he saw him break a little inside because of how easy it had been for the soldier to put the impending doom in the form of the Colonel behind him.

“Yeah. Rhodey will flip if he sees you. He’s a smart guy, y’know? One look and he’ll figure it out.” The bleakness that seeped into the false cheer showed how vulnerable the smaller man was feeling.

Reassurance.

Stark wanted Bucky to tell him that nothing’s going to change, that all of this wouldn’t cause them any trouble. That it was all a mistake, it wouldn’t happen again and they could go back to how it was—dancing around each other like magnets.

He knew that for Stark, it was the only thing they could allow themselves to have, more would make the team fall apart again. If he were a better man, he would’ve said his heart bleeds for Stark and his plight. But he wasn’t, he _never_ was. Also, that logic was the motherfucking bullshit of all bullshittery, he was sure that even the sanest person in the world would agree with a crazy fucker like him on that.

Seeing Stark like this, _weak_ , just having this little chink in the engineer’s armor, was only driving that manic part of him wild. His fingers twitch as arousal lanced through him again, greater than it had been earlier. It made Bucky want to throw Stark on top of the table, have his way with the man until his throat was _torn_ and _raw_ from screaming Bucky’s name so much the whole goddamn Compound would hear him and the soldier was sure the billionaire would be walking in zigzags and cross-legged for _weeks_.

Rhodes and all of the Avengers be damned.

However, he knew it would not be appreciated—for now—so, he only cupped Stark’s cheek and softly kissed him.

“Barn—“

“I’ll see you later.” He murmured against Stark’s lips, placing a millimeter of space between them before giving in and taking another kiss, sucking on the smaller brunet’s lower lip.

Stark sighed as he pulled away and looked around the lab, “We really shouldn’t have done that. This is a mis—“

Bucky gently turned the man’s chin toward him, “Have FRIDAY air out the room and blast the ACs then wear that hoodie on the couch for coverage. Go back to what you were doing earlier, if you still want both of us to survive another day and not have tombstones personally carved by Colonel Rhodes.”

The subtle reminder was enough to derail the genius from thinking about their _mistake_ and get him back to ‘escaping’ their doom.

_No, doll._

_We’re not a mistake._

_I’ll make damn sure of that._

“We’re fine, Stark.” He stroked the man’s cheek with his metal thumb, “C’mon, my brain’s not as sharp as yours but this is the best we can do for now.”

“Stop ordering me around, bastard.” Stark turned away jerkily, muttering about bossy, frozen morons.

“Yet, you’re still doing what I told you to.” He laughed, nose scrunching a little at Stark’s continuous mumbled insults.

Stark only glared at him and as argumentative as he was, he surprisingly dropped any protests Bucky knew were building inside him as he quickly followed the advice.

Satisfied, just not in the ways he had expected—oh well—Bucky began strolling to the lab’s entrance, “I’m going.”

“Are you insane?! Use the route from here to the garage. Rhodey will see you!” Stark hissed as he zipped the hoodie all the way up to his neck, fluffing it up to hide Bucky’s marks and moving behind his desk to cover the stain on his crotch.

Bucky only spared him a lazy grin before he got out of the threshold, “He won’t. _Winter_ _Soldier_ , remember?”

Before Stark was able to say anything else, he was gone.

* * *

_“Are you insane?!”_

He was tempted to answer that bit, he thought as he laid on his bed after his shower when he got to his room, successfully avoided being seen not just by Rhodes, but by everyone in the Compound.

_Remains to be seen at its fullest, sweet thing._

If anyone were to ask other people about Bucky Barnes, they’d get a myriad of things for answers.

_‘Jimmy Barnes? Hell of a gambler that one.’_

_‘Packed a lotta punch. Showed up wanting to earn some cash and rest is history.’_

_‘Bucky’s a ladies’ man. Always bein’ sweet on the girls and they love it.’_

_‘Bucky’s my best friend and I’m with him ‘til the end of the line.’_

Those were things that floated inside his head when he tried his best to recall things from before the ice. Faceless people and voices, with the exception of Steve, that talked of how good James Buchanan Barnes was. Even the memorial in the Smithsonian followed that same track.

But, those were words for a dead man.

No.

Those were words for someone people thought they knew.

For someone that mostly _pretended to exist_.

James Buchanan Barnes was a man far from good and kind.He was a rabid animal in human skin, long before the war.

All the brawls from his younger years and boxing provided him with claws to go along with his pointed teeth; the army had taken both and refined them with a whetstone while HYDRA had broken them off before putting the ill-fitting pieces back into their former place—left them more crooked than they were from the start. HYDRA had his claws and sharp, jagged teeth coated in ice whilst they poured hot tar and poison into his veins simultaneously drilling their filth into his mind.

He had all of that eating away at his already foul consciousness like _maggots_ on rotten flesh. Had been consuming him before Steve came to get him out of that lab the first time and still feasted on him up to this time.

He had always been one _hungry, jealous_ and _greedy_ bastard.

Some would say, wasn’t it because of the poverty, Depression and the rationing?

 _Possibly_.

Exacerbated by the War and what HYDRA did to him?

 _Absolutely_.

Nonetheless, he was a creature of gluttony and avarice from the very _beginning_. He might have been a happy, innocent child, once, before life decided to screw him over. However, for most of his life, before he got sent to war, he had always hidden those parts of him to survive.

* * *

He supposed it started when he realized that he had to learn everything he could and use them to make sure he had something to _hold_ on to and not drown in the life he was born into. He had _nothing_ right from the start and he wanted to have it all. Damn, if he wasn’t going to do _everything_ he could to ensure he did.

_Hunger._

_She_ was the first one he became intimate with.

Being from a poor family, he had learned to function through the gnawing and twisting in his stomach from the lack of nourishment. Conditioning himself to _smile_ through the _stab_ of countless needles and stifle the pooling of saliva in his _maw_ as he let his siblings get his share of what meager food their parents managed to scrounge up for them.

When he was a child, people said he had to study well to land a good job in the future and good jobs meant _food_ on the table, so he did. He made sure that he would be leagues ahead of the rest. He had to be the best because it would make him look good to the company he’d be applying to in the future.

He would not be seeing his Ma beside herself with barely hidden grief every time she had to explain to his siblings why they couldn’t have cake for their birthdays or why they only had warm water along with a piece of stale bread for dinner and on the worst of days, nothing at all before going to bed. He was going to find himself a good job and would make a lot of money, he would be buying his siblings all the sweets they wanted and his Ma would be wearing one of those dresses he had seen rich dames wear. 

His efforts didn’t matter though.

The ghastly lady, touched everyone he knew and the whole land but seemed to have taken a special interest in his family. Took them one at a time, some painfully slow, the others—and probably her mockery of _mercy_ —in their sleep. She forcefully opened his eyes that first time, her tinkling laugh ringing in his ears as he helplessly watched one of his siblings, the youngest one, sweet— _Rosie? Ruth? Betsy? No. Dear God, what was her name?—_ waste away in his arms.

The lady’s laughter still accompanied him closely, lifetimes away from whence they met.

* * *

_Life_ got off on fucking with Bucky Barnes, which was why everything went downhill from there. His family and friends said he was a fighter, and how he wanted to tell them how far _off_ the mark they were. He was actually realizing that he was being driven into a corner. He was _desperate_ , and as _frightened_ , desperate, wild creatures were wont to do—he lashed out.

He had to get a large bite out of life, do whatever he could to get back at it—so he clawed and bit his way through everything that came on his side of the road. Difficult to make ends meet and no longer able to continue studying? Drop the hell out of school and find sidelines for extra cash. Getting into fights because of and with the little guy he befriended? Said guy also had tons of health problems and he couldn’t let them be alone because they’re each other’s only family left? Fucking learn how to box to earn money.

He was doing great. Hell, from what he remembered, he was a goddamn champion.

Interspersed in those early points of his life were the times he had also picked up and utilized the skill of sheathing his claws and hiding his pointed teeth under soft lips and rakish smiles. Because he had learned that people liked pretty things or more precisely, pretty _animals_ even better if it was nice to them. His Ma, he couldn’t remember what her face looked like now, always said that he should be a gentleman—a good fella, because everyone wanted to be around one. He took it to mean as being less likely for him to get kicked around, higher chances of being treated better and getting treats, not that he’d ever said it to her. She would’ve fainted on the spot hearing him talk about himself like that and he loved her too much to let that happen. Thus, Bucky Barnes, the rake, the ladies’ man and the all-around good fella was born.

It was in those moments he was introduced to another mistress, _Greed_.

Many of the pretty dames in town wanted to dance around with Bucky Barnes, he had fellas from work inviting him to a good game of cards who would just sigh and chuckle if he swiped the coin out of their pockets by winning all the time. Those extra cash he would be pushing into that little jar he had under his floorboards. He had his best friend and brother with him, Stevie, who was an amazing artist that he was sure would be one of the greatest the world has ever seen.

He was slowly, but surely moving closer to _all_.

Or so he thought because _Life_ started batting its eyelashes at him again.

 _By the way, darling, there’s a war on your doorstep, you’ll certainly get drafted to fight in the front lines. No need to worry ‘bout good ol’ Stevie because you’ll be sending him cash. You want to help him get better, don’t you? Just be sure you’ll_ live _to do so, of course._

Fear rippled through him to the core when he got the letter that sealed his fate. He was close to it all, he couldn’t just _die_. What about Steve? Everything he had worked hard for? It was all starting to burn and ash was filling his lungs. He wanted to _run_. He had to get away. He wanted to tell his best friend they would go to the ends of the Earth and hide. He had nearly done so, if it hadn’t been for him seeing the set of Steve’s jaw and sloppily hidden _jealousy_ in the blond’s eyes.

Ah.

Slowly, he was reminded of how grimy he was beneath the smiles while he continued to revel in the clouds covering the blues of Stevie’s eyes.

Perhaps, this could be something he’d also take for himself then.

Steve’s light— _pure, good and righteous_ —tainted by and because of what Bucky had in his hands.

Gangrenous hands dug into his insides and smeared putrid, _viscous_ pus all over his heart as _Greed_ snickered with delight.

* * *

During his time in the war the first time, he had bed yet another mistress, one that he would be kneeling to for the next seven decades— _Death_.

He had already been introduced to her, she was _always_ around him, near him, had seen her up close when she cradled members of his family and friends bringing them into her endless abyss. Still, during those times, he had not been the one to hold her hand out as she descended to visit her subjects, until he had his finger on the trigger of a gun. He’d been _numbed_ to all manners of her gracing him with her presence because of what he had been through and what he was made to do, but he had yet to be able to suppress a shudder whenever he recalled the _first time_ a man’s head exploded after being on the wrong end of his rifle.

He went through all the motions as he smiled and cheered for their victory upon their return to camp, then bowed his head for the brothers-in-arms they’ve lost. When he got back to his tent, away from prying eyes, his knees buckled underneath him and met the ground as he shivered like a leaf; bile and acid _burning_ his throat as they scratched their way out his system.

He was seeing it all, playing again and again in his head with no way for him to stop it.

The ping of his bullet as it left the barrel to the muted _pop_ it made entering and exiting the enemy soldier’s head was loud in his ears. The blood and gray matter trailing the bullet, arcing through the air like a comet’s tail before spattering to the ground. The stench of slightly seared skin, stinging his nose even with the distance, cloying and blending with the scent of gunpowder that burned his hands. The little convulsing _dance_ the soldier’s form made before falling to the ground facing him. The caved in temple with blood running down the frozen face, soldier’s eyes wide and unseeing yet _burned_ full of accusations. Accusations he could _hear_ bursting out of the slackened mouth.

_Murderer._

_Murderer._

_Murderer._

It was a memory HYDRA never got to carve out of him, despite everything. He had always wondered why that was. Pouring over and thinking about it endlessly when he got the triggers removed, bordering on obsession, he had an epiphany occur.

It was staring him in the face all along.

It was simply because it was what HYDRA and _Death_ wanted from him. Sculpt and paint the world to their liking.

Streaked in crimsons that coagulated into sour wines, then crusted into dark patches of brown like dried rose petals.

All of the details of that night, however, still paled to one detail he held close to his chest.

The haunting, willowy echo of _Death_ humming in the tune of his choked sobs whilst she ran icicles for fingers through his hair.

* * *

As the war waged on, he had learned to quell the urge to puke his innards whenever some schmuck ended up facing the barrel of his gun. Partly because he had the _validation_ , he was a soldier fighting for his country and the people he killed were evil men. Hearing that enabled him to breathe and push down the disgust whenever he looked down at his hands. Most of it though, was because of fear—fear that if he did, bile and chyme would be the _last_ thing his fellow soldiers would worry about. No, it was the _maggots_ , fattened by the rot _festering_ in him, that would be coming out of his mouth along with his blackened insides, slickened and bursting with pus.

If that happened, Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes would be exposed as the monster he truly was.

In conjunction with that bit of breathing room, he gladly embraced another lady who came back to his side. 

_Lust_.

Oh, he knew her very well.

She would come and go as she pleased but been with him for almost as long as _Hunger_.

 _She_ slinked over to him and _giggled_ as she murmured into his ear that first time at fourteen, when a teacher had asked him to stay behind and help her with sorting through the materials for the lesson the next day.

He recalled the confusion, the terror and that inexplicable surge of _heat_ engulf him as the attractive Mrs.— _huh, he couldn’t remember her, either_ —pushed him down on the floor and straddled him. Her smile was inviting and sharp as she unbuttoned her blouse and grabbed his hands, molding them to cup the creamy swell of her breasts.

 _‘You have such lovely hands, Bucky.’_ she moaned as he reflexively squeezed in shock, her hips grinding on top of him, _‘Bucky,’_ she whispered in his ear, _‘Is it alright to call you that? You can call me…’_

He couldn’t remember what happened next, but he did feel that heated, pressure in his loins as the woman on top of him rode him like a feral cat in heat. When the grip of her body became almost unbearable, he heard _her_.

_Let go._

_I’ll bring you to a place you’ve never been before._

_Where bliss is the only thing that mattered._

_You won’t feel anything else._

_Just bliss._

He did.

 _Lust_ sang and purred, her heat slicing through the cooling tracks of salt water on his cheeks that she traced with her succulent lips.

A week later, his teacher had disappeared to God knew where. He could vaguely educe the clammy sensation of relief, disgust, confusion and _betrayal_ when he learned that she had left. He kept his mouth shut and _smiled_ as Steve adorably asked if he was alright when he insisted they exchange seats. He didn’t want anyone else to sit on where _that_ happened, especially his best friend. A part of him roaring that if someone stayed there, they would _know_.

 _She_ would whisper it in their ears.

So he endured, all day long there was throaty laughter wrapping around him that he tried to drown by listening intently to the _tap, tap, tap_ of the chalk on the board.

* * *

Despite that first meeting, _Lust_ was, perchance, his _favorite_ out of his mistresses. She was, _easy_ , for the lack of a better term. Every kiss and touch she gave made him forget about how he would please his _other dames_. He didn’t have to think, he only had to let the ambiences pull him as he played the body writhing and panting beneath him like an instrument. She also helped him to become _numb_ , ironically enough. In few short moments, he would be tightly covering parts of himself, out of sight and he would _not_ be that monster for a while. He could tell from the fuzzy smiles and bright gazes his companions would give him as they lean back on to rumpled sheets, scratchy hay or sometimes, the cold mud in the trenches during their watch, after the momentary high had started to diffuse.

Women and men, anyone who caught his interest or if he caught theirs—he wasn’t an idiot, he knew he was considered quite attractive. He played that to his gain, smiled and crooned until they let him into their bodies and took in what sliver of warmth they could offer. They liked the way he smiled, and how he caressed their quivering flesh— _moaning_ and _gasping_ , clutching him _tighter_ idyllically unaware of how much he wanted to sink his claws into every span of skin before him and _rip_ them with his sharp teeth. How he wanted that potent dose of anesthesia in the guise of short-lived affections to flow into his bloodstream through the bites and scratches he _wanted_ to leave behind. When he finally got his _game_ to that precipice, he would push them and watch as _sheer_ _indulgence_ string them along before he eagerly followed to that gratification—the _laughter_ and _songs_ in his head eclipsed by the bliss that lit every nerve of his body. He would be shrouded in detachment as the satisfaction in his flesh locked the monster beneath his skin and he would _smile_.

He had gotten by, cracks in his soul mostly covered by mud and blood and the musk of carnality.

He was _fine_.

Then again, he did say _Life_ pleasured herself to the wails of Bucky Barnes’ misery.

His first real lady had decided to push him into the arms of a monster more terrifying than mythology made it out to be: _HYDRA._

* * *

The first time HYDRA had their hands on him, he fell back into the instinct his mistresses had introduced him to when he got cornered— _fight_.

He wouldn’t die on that snowy field. He would _live._ He endured the lashings and the beating, he would get out of there. He’d go back to Brooklyn and he’d see Stevie and his friends. He would continue hiding in plain sight and he would have _all._

He should’ve known not to make decisions on his own because his mistresses had coiled the chains around him and steered him to whichever path they deem him to be on. They had decided to show a glimpse of what hid underneath James Buchanan Barnes’ skin during the war—they chose that moment when Zola and some of his soldiers tortured and killed a Corporal in front of the captives. All of them had been defiant and refused to work on the weapons Zola wanted to create, thus, their captors made an example out of one of them.

The Corporal had been _young_ , younger than Bucky himself and sweet like honeyed lemon. He could recall how _warm_ the cavern behind those full lips was around his cock as they hid behind the trees in the dead of the night during one of the lulls in the battlefield. How the younger man— _boy_ would have been more apt—was so eager to please him, kneeling between his legs with no hesitation whatsoever. How he keened and tried to muffle his voice by gnawing on his arm as ‘ _Please_ , _Sir’_ , ‘ _Oh_ _gods’_ and ‘ _More_ _Sir’_ repeatedly fell out of him as the Sergeant plowed him into the ground on his hands and knees.

A pity his tattered mind could not bring his face nor his name up in his memories anymore. He did feel a twinge of _something_ for that one, regardless of the fact that he had stood frozen and unyielding as a statue as the boy’s _screams_ echoed around them—guttural and anguished like an animal in slaughter—as the Nazis broke his arms and _carved_ a smile on what he knew was a cherubic face. The yells of outrage and stench of horror from his fellow prisoners permeated the air more prominently so when the commanding officer ordered for the men to finish it. The sobs and the sounds of retching filled his ears when the boy’s head burst like a water balloon courtesy of the pistol they forced into the mangled mouth.

When he felt that scratch at the back of his mind, he tore his impassive eyes away from what was left of the boy and found Zola looking at him in _wonder_ as though seeing something he had never known existed for the first time.

In a way it was alarming that he wasn’t in any way _surprised_ when Zola’s thugs dragged him to that laboratory weeks after, however, it wasn’t to say he wasn’t terrified out his mind.

He _was_.

He _truly_ was.

So terrified was he that he snarled and snapped at the soldiers as they tow him to that room, even tearing a chunk out of the arm of one of them when they finally brought him to Zola.

The contrast of the childlike, almost innocuous look of _awe_ in Zola’s face as the scientist looked at the blood that dribbled from his lips with the smattering of unidentified equipment more suitable for a butcher all over the lab were what his nightmares from then on were made of.

* * *

Out of his mind in delirium, chanting his name, rank, serial number for...days? Weeks? Months? He couldn’t tell. All he knew was he wanted _it_ to stop. The susurrating _squelch, splat_ and _scratch_ of the maggots _squirming_ and _feasting_ on his stinging flesh and the trickle of boiled, thick tar crawling in his veins.

And there was a symphony of melodious laughter that pushed them all into the forefront of his senses.

_Stop._

_Stop._

_Make it stop._

**_Please_ ** _._

There was a short reprieve when the sound of a door being slammed open drowned the sounds and he had thought that maybe, _Death_ has figured he had enough. That he wasn’t a toy she wanted to play with anymore.

When his eyes fell on to that face of his best friend—oh so familiar, yet so very _different_ —he heard it quite clear when she breathed into his ear so lovingly,

_No, my love._

_We’re just getting started._

* * *

He had long accepted that _Greed_ held a large part of him, what he did not expect however, was being ensnared in the web of her equally _vicious_ twin sister.

 _Envy_.

Almost a lifetime ago, he had left for war and Steve was still that sickly, little guy with righteousness shining in his eyes. The light overshadowed by the darkness in Bucky.

It painted a sickly smile on his face when he finally recognized the _lady_ whose arms were around him when he took in the look of _reverence_ the soldiers were giving the towering, lumbering blond that was apparently his newly experimented on best friend.

 _Of course, only Stevie would get his ass voluntarily experimented on by a damn_ Kraut _and have all the goodness he had manifest in all the ways it mattered._

The nail on the coffin was when that agent, Peggy Carter, showed up in the bar looking _so_ _damn_ _delicious_ in that bloody red dress. He moved closer and laid down his usual cards, the ones he knew they liked a lot.

She may as well have slapped him when she didn’t even deign him worthy of a _glance_. Her eyes were on Steve and _for Steve only_.

He swallowed the swarm of maggots that _slithered_ along with acrid, rank fluids up his throat. Slathering on a smile, he pushed Steve and jokingly remarked that he was the _unnoticeable_ one now.

The words were as light and warm as shards of glass and bitter poison on his tongue that went really well with the deceptive sweetened, effervescence of the laughter his new mistress serenaded him with.

* * *

Most of the years in the ice and splattering blood as the Asset were a jumble of mess—at this he had to smirk, not like it was any different to how he was before HYDRA made a deadlier weapon out of him.

He did recall the screeching of someone he’d later properly be introduced to as _Wrath_ as he fell down on his knees fighting the other HYDRA agents. Thus, he immediately stood up, swiftly snapped their necks and bashed their heads against the wall.

 _He would not be thrown away_ , _he was the best_. _He was the Fist of HYDRA, the Winter Soldier, these fuckers were beneath him._

The veil _Wrath_ covered his eyes with would be lifted and he would blink back into the present to see blood dripping from both his fists and running down the dank walls of the bunker. He would turn to his Handlers and they would award him with the praise that was rightfully his.

The harmony _Wrath_ and _Pride_ made weaving into the Handlers’ praise was a cool balm on the swarm of insects swimming in the _oozing_ fetid infection in his skull.

* * *

Escaping HYDRA after Steve burned Triskelion to the ground was easy, he ran to the bank and found the technicians. He recalled the simultaneous murmur from both _Death_ and _Wrath_ as he faced the men who made him.

_Kill them._

**Kill them**.

**_You wish to be free, don’t you?_ **

He snarled his defiance to the bafflement of the men before him. He grabbed whatever he could use and ran out of the bank.

He didn’t kill them.

He didn’t want to kill them.

For the first time, in his life he was _free_.

* * *

Was he though?

Years on the run and living on his own, keeping his head down had been _the most peaceful years_ he had in recent memory. No Handlers, no mission reports, no technicians and most importantly, his _mistresses_ were quietly murmuring in their own place at the shrine they made him _painstakingly_ whittle for them in the back of his mind.

The good pet that he was, he took their murmured sweet nothings at face value. He had to laugh, apparently, the only thing he could ever be was _stupid_ as far as his _ladies_ were concerned.

The cornered look that took over in the eyes of the man in the newspaper stall across the street told him all he needed to know. The way he nearly landed on his face as he ran away from Bucky solidified what a small part of him had known but he was too stupid to listen.

 _Punishment_.

 _Their_ laughter came back, this time accompanied by sharpened nails that dug into his very being and _loud_ buzzing and squirming of the insects in his head.

_Sweet love, you seemed to forget who truly owns you._

_Time to go back._

* * *

Bucharest and Berlin were both a blur but undoubtedly full of clusterfucks that he had to stomp down that _vile_ whisper that wanted him to slit the throats of _everyone_ involved—even _Steve_ , damned moron dragged him into this—just so it was done and over with. No, if he did, he’d have nowhere to run and hide. It’s what _they_ wanted.

 _Their_ mirth amplified when he was muzzled and chained by his triggers again. _They_ danced around his peripheral like nymphs as he played the tune of chaos composed by Zemo.

He was about to fire a couple of rounds from the gun in his hand when a sound rang in his head—shattering _their_ laughter and squashing the insects that it disoriented him enough for whoever it was to sneak closer to him. He turned around and saw someone he recognized, from those dossiers that HYDRA had updated on the man.

 _Tony Stark_.

_Iron Man._

They grappled for his gun and the second he had it over Stark’s face, he expected it to end in a confetti of tattered flesh and bits of bone— _like the Corporal and that first soldier back in the war_ , came _Death’s_ haunting siren’s call. Nothing of the sort happened though, the gauntlet Stark had stopped the bullet in both of their surprise, he looked at the man and for a split second was confused by how _soft_ he looked with that shaky smirk compared to the imposing visage printed in the pictures HYDRA had on his files. Stark, naturally took this as a chance to disarm him, nimble hands deftly pulling his gun apart before backhanding him with the slide.

_What is this?_

_They_ clucked.

_All it took is a pretty little smile to take down the formidable Soldier?_

**_Pathetic_ ** _._

The acerbic sneer rang in his head and brought on a surge of rage, _Pride_ and _Wrath_ crooning in his ear as he swung his elbow and hit Stark.

No.

He would _not_ be felled by something a flimsy as that.

* * *

The _brawl_ in Leipzig was much like Berlin and Bucharest, a mass of blur. In the flight to Siberia, he had hours of ruminating about what he had done for decades under HYDRA. And Steve? _Wonderful_ , _admirable_ Steve was too quick to absolve him of all his crimes because he believed in Bucky. There was a small amount of comfort and a tinge of _resentment_ in him that Steve still, somehow, retained that unwavering belief in his friends and _naïvete_ after all these years. Yes, he could argue that he wasn’t at fault. Did he do all of it in his own volition?

No.

Still didn’t change the fact that he had done all that.

The _ladies_ laughed and the maggots squirmed in agreement.

‘ _Silly Steve. He didn’t know what you truly are, does he?’_

He and Steve fell back into a part of that easy pattern of fighting alongside each other—covering one another’s back. He felt some of the ice prickle his scalp, and the hot tar boil in his blood while that veil draped over his eyes when he saw the striking carmine and gold of the Iron Man armor. Anticipation for the stench of blood tickled his nose as he kept his rifle on Stark.

“Hey, Manchurian Candidate, you’re killing me. There’s a truce here, you can drop…”

It hadn’t been Steve’s signal as much as it was Stark’s voice cutting through _their_ laughter and sending the insects back into the deep recesses of his mind that pulled him out of that pit he was sinking into like quicksand.

Thrice, he noted.

Stark stopped them _thrice_ now.

He didn’t know how to feel about it, he had tried so hard all his life and there was this man who was able to do so with so much _ease_ and _utterly oblivious_ to what he had done.

He thought about those three instances and then two names as well as the faces they belonged to flitted into his mind. He cast a look at the back of the armor leading them further into the bunker, his fingers tightening on his rifle.

No, he knew what he felt about it.

_He was going to be sick._

* * *

“Did you know?”

That barely there hitch in Stark’s breath as he asked Steve cut through him more than he’d ever admit. The genius wasn’t looking at him and _God_ , he hoped Stark wouldn’t. Otherwise, he’d probably see Bucky's putrefying innards _slinking_ down to the floor to his feet from the cavernous wound that grew every time Stark spoke. And Steve, he wasn’t helping at all. Stark was only asking— _begging_ —him for the truth, even if Bucky could tell that some part of the man wanted the lie to be true.

“Don’t bullshit me, Rogers… _did you know?_ ”

“ _Yes_.”

He took a step back when Stark turned to him. The grief, the hurt, lies and anger were overwhelming and emanated potently in the darkened orbs his eyes. _Oh God, his eyes_. He had recalled a female technician, who once slept with the man, sing praises about them as she worked on his arm, nattering to the other technician—eyes the most interesting mix of golds, browns, ambers and hazels. Bright and warm and with the intensity of the all the stars when it was focused all on a single person.

He almost felt justified that he threw her to the other side of the room in irritation and her neck snapped as it met the bannister that led to the observation deck of the lab.

_Bright?_

_Warm?_

The only thing she got right was the intensity.

Stark’s eyes had the _intensity of a gluttonous blackhole_.

* * *

Almost dead and blind with pain from having his arm blasted off, all the conversation that went around him between the new King of Wakanda and Steve were all fog. He barely recalled what happened when they landed in T’challa’s kingdom but that new whisper never left him alone—that came with the scratch of the stubble against his cheek and hot breath in his ear—again, drowning everything else.

‘ _Do you even remember them?’_

He answered out of equal parts spite and honesty.

The first half being a product of that bitterness in him at the man’s gall to mock him for how HYDRA mauled his already decaying mind, the second…because he would never be able to return everything the man lost, even if his were the hands that took them, it was the least he could’ve done. Especially after that _stupidity_ of trying to pull wool over Stark’s eyes that Steve actually attempted to do.

Months after he had decided to go back to the ice, Princess Shuri had woken him up and told him that they were able to find a way to get rid of his triggers. _Dissociate_ , rather, was the more appropriate term. They would isolate every single response to each trigger and re-condition him using altered simulations created from his memories to be projected by a colorful pair of modified glasses.

He was beyond grateful that they found a way to wrench him out of HYDRA’s control and agreed to undergo every test as well as therapy to ensure he would be in the proper mindset before he started the removal of his triggers. He had thought nothing unusual of the trigger-removing device as he had decided to call it, until he heard the others talk about Stark’s company helping out war veterans with PTSD.

“It’s a pet project of his.” Natalia casually commented when Barton scoffed at the news flashing on the screen.

“How d’you even know about that, Nat?” Sam asked, looking at her almost dubiously. _Good_. At least this one had a working brain rattling inside that skull. Not that his own brain was something to brag about. The point still stood though, don’t ever _completely_ trust the Black Widow.

“I was Pepper’s P.A. before remember?” she replied almost smugly, “Besides, Tony’s always had a soft spot for war veterans.” She added before her eyes touched upon Steve so quickly that he could tell only him and Barton caught—if the archer wasn’t too busy stealing some chips from Sam.

Steve, for the most part, looked confused “Well, I’m glad he’s doing that. I mean, health centers for traumatized vets.” He replied with a small, almost wistful smile on his lips.

“He’s only doing that to manipulate people into taking his side.” The Sokovian woman drawled, her lips curling in distate. “Letting people think he’s there to help when in reality, all he ever does is destroying everything he touched.”

“You got that right.” Barton piped up.

Sam shook his head in irritation but did not say anything otherwise to what the two were yakking about, whereas Lang was just looking awkwardly at everyone, unsure whether he should join in or not.

“Guys, stop it! Tony’s not like that. He’s our friend, all of what’s happening right now is just a misunderstanding.”

Both his and the little spider’s eyes flew to Steve at his outburst. The blond was looking at them imploringly as if he wanted them to help him in defending Stark’s honor—

Oh.

 _Oh_.

Well, he’ll be even _more_ damned he thought.

This was something he did not see coming.

 _‘Damned indeed’_ , _they_ giggled and the squirming began anew.

* * *

He was two sessions into his therapy when it occurred to him that maybe asking about the device was something he should do to help himself differentiate it from the Chair. He brought it up with his therapist and she thought it a good idea, thus when Shuri—as she insisted he called her—called him to the to ask about anything he’d like to suggest about his treatment’s session, he did. He only shrugged and told her he was fine with what they’d come up with. He did ask about how they came up with the trigger-removing device, however. 

Shuri snorted, “You mean, Binarily Augmented—“she stopped before continuing, “The _Virtual Memory Reprocessor_ has been a long time project. We just didn’t have a case that really suited it, until you, that’s why it’s widely unused. It’s calibrated usually for people with extreme cases of trauma and PTSD which is actually something we do not deal with much here in Wakanda unless you count the Hatut Zeraze that get sent out all over the world.”

He kept his face open and nodded as she talked, “I see. No wonder, you all get meticulous with it.”

“Well, you colonizers are quite the handful.” She poked, shaking her head at him.

“Our apologies, Princess.” He laughed lightly.

* * *

_Binarily Augmented…_

_Binarily Augmented…_

He’d heard of those words before, he just didn’t know where. The only restriction the King had placed upon all of them were leaving Wakanda, going around the land unescorted and certain sections of the palace. That being said, he could deduce that internet usage was fine so long as they didn’t try to contact anyone who could trace them back to Wakanda. He immediately set to searching for the words and found a link to a video.

It was a presentation of the Virtual Memory Reprocessor in M.I.T. only, it had a different name and was owned by none other than _Tony fucking Stark_.

The tittering of the _ladies_ went into full blown laughter, the _splat_ and _squelch_ of the maggots moving around as they fatten themselves up were loudly grating on him like nails on chalkboard.

* * *

In the time T’challa and Shuri had presented him with his new arm, his eyes immediately sought Steve. He’s certain Steve hadn’t figured out where the arm truly came from. All the _better,_ really. He had to give the royal siblings some credit though, they fooled even Natalia on this one. Well, it was easy considering all the technology Wakanda possessed that was leagues ahead of the entire world’s.

He smiled and expressed his gratitude. He may have said the words to the siblings but he could guess T’challa was aware that he had included Stark, in all but name, going by the way the King’s eyes imperceptibly narrowed. Perhaps, because they’ve been tracking his online searches. He had to admit he had been _quite_ _appreciative_ of the internet lately. Even if they did track his browsing history, he had _nothing_ to be ashamed of.

A man has needs and he had _decades_ of backlog.

Amusement bubbled in him when he thought about how the unflappable King of Wakanda had reacted when he learned that the Winter Soldier spent most of his free time in his suite watching _questionable_ videos of brunets who had multicolored stars for eyes. He maintained the right level of jovial on his face appropriate to the occasion as to not give himself away. Still, he wondered.

Did T’challa consider telling Steve or the rest of the Avengers?

Ah, speaking of Steve.

Good ol’ Stevie who was so happy for him and couldn’t thank the royals enough, he was practically glowing. The brightness that Steve emitted only raised the hackles of the absolute _filth_ within him, something he had found out that _BARF_ could not remove along with the triggers.

He silenced it with the thought of the darkened blues of Steve’s eyes when they received their letters during the beginning of the war. The jealousy that muddled those blue eyes was soothing to him. If it had been like that before Steve became a better version of himself...what would it be like if he had taken something more important to the blond and made it his _own_?

His eyes fell to the stunning arm that laid on the cushioned case.

Could he?

Steal from Steve?

His mouth watered at the thought, _Greed_ and _Envy_ caressing his face soothingly.

_‘No, no, darling. You cannot steal anything that isn’t owned by anyone to begin with.’_

_‘You’ve given everything you had to him, it’s only fair you get to take what you want in return.’_

* * *

His eyes opened as his thoughts returned to the present, he grasped the lingering specks of _satisfaction_ in his system and went on to another cycle of thoughts. Fuck, his mind was _buzzing_ a lot today.

Steve went to war and left Stark to die in Siberia for him.

His best friend.

Who’s to say that Steve would hesitate if it were the other way around?

After all, his best friend carried a torch for Stark and if he found out that Bucky was already enjoying the feast…

Then again, there wouldn’t be any war to wage if it had already been… _won_. Between him and Steve it was obvious who was closer to victory, it was almost laughable considering Steve had _years_ of head start.

As that thought finished, the hunted look in Stark’s eyes at the workshop earlier slipped unbidden to his mind.

Bucharest came back to him as he tried to unsuccessfully smother the laughter in his throat.

 _Punishment_.

He was being punished for running away and defying _their_ orders.

He knew that well enough. He had expected that his punishment was the whole Civil War. The guilt of tearing Steve’s team apart weighing on him like fetters and chains around his ankles that he’d carry for the rest of his life.

Siberia, _definitely_.

Ah, but then, Siberia was the knife. 

_They_ stabbed Siberia into his gut like a rusted dagger and gave him _three_ illustrations of relief beforehand.

During his stay in Wakanda, _they_ let him get a glimpse of what would satisfy the beast in him—the jealousy that soothed his envy, possessing the practical embodiment of _all_ that both bolstered and alleviated his hunger which in turn incited his greed and lust to conquer.

Then, they arrived at the Compound and he finally put it all together.

 _Life_ truly had a twisted sense of humor, he didn’t know if he should be appalled or amazed.

Tony Stark.

His punishment was _Tony Stark_.

The one who would be twisting the dagger in his gut.

His _ladies_ wanted him to chase and run after someone that was practically what he _craved_ and would slake all the depravity in him. Who also turned out to be someone that would undoubtedly see through him and do their _damnedest_ to get away.

That tryst from earlier? It was _their_ way of drumming it into Stark’s mind that Bucky was a path to ruin and _their_ way of keeping _their_ beast coming back for more.

He had no delusions that Stark wouldn’t be cooped up in his lab in the following days, possibly pondering what the hell came over him that he got _frisky_ with the man who murdered his parents. Maybe he was thrashing some of his equipment after Rhodes bit his head off and tore him a new one.

Either way, he couldn’t care less.

 _They_ wanted him to chase and hunt endlessly to punish him for defiance?

Big mistake.

He was trained specifically in _both_.

He had been emancipated from both his muzzle and leash, he was free to move.

Punishment or no,

 _Steve_ or no,

His _ladies_ or no,

_Tony Stark was his._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...uhh...that happened.  
> I'm also confused how it came out like this.  
> please be GENTLE with me.  
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> P.S. If you have been reading my fics, you'll notice that I go back to previous chapters to edit some stuff. I'm hella paranoid because I'm not a native English speaker and majority of the readers have English as their first language.


	3. Rhapsodizing the chaos we are

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **  
>  _‘So the question is  
>  One: do I really wanna trust this feeling?  
> Two: do I wanna let it pass me by?  
> Three: do you think it's only superficial?  
> Four: could it actually be different this time?' _   
>  **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, everyone!!!  
> Uhm... yeah, I'm still alive. Thank God.  
> As a form of apology for my absence, here's a 9k monster chapter for y'all.  
> Also, I'd like to apologize to any reader named MARY SUE OR MARYS. No shade or anything at all. I'm actually referencing the trope particularly in the rom-com genre. 
> 
> **Chapter title is cringy as hell because of my tendency to rhapsodize in my writing and also I'm feeling sappy much more than usual. Let's all be sappy together for a bit**
> 
> To the new readers: I have no beta, all mistakes are my own and PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS.  
>  **NOT TEAM CAP FRIENDLY**
> 
> Thank you and hope you enjoy!

Tony didn’t get to say anything else before Barnes disappeared into thin air.

_Goddamn ninja._

With the remaining time, Tony quickly ran his hands over his neck, bundling the hood around it to cover his purpling _souvenirs_ and pulled on the sleeves to hide those that circled his wrists. He found distraction in fiddling with, ironically enough, the container where he kept some spare of the smaller parts of the circuitry in Barnes’ arm.

Running a hand repeatedly through his hair to tame the mess Barnes made it into, he turned to one of FRIDAY’s cameras, “FRI, air out the lab please, also blast the ACs.”

“Yes, Boss.”

Tony pulled the schematics of the metal arm on the holoscreens and grabbed his, thankfully, nearby box of precision tools. Just in the nick of time because the workshop doors opened and Rhodey stomped in with all the force of a tsunami,

“Tones, you will _not_ believe what I—“Noticing that Tony was in the middle of something, Rhodey stopped and took stock of what was before him. What little speck of levity in the Airman’s stance dissipated as his features slipped into cool professionalism, “Barnes?”

“Yep. Heard there was going to be a recon in Guatemala. Tricky one. So, I’m assuming they’re sending him along with either Romanoff or Barton. Need to get him ready.” The marble staunchness in Rhodey’s face trickled into a bit more of a relaxed state. More importantly, he stayed a few feet away from Tony. The genius nearly let himself sag with relief on the table when Rhodey stopped approaching him.

“What brings you in, Platypus?” Tony needed to get out of the Barnes subject because his dick was valiantly stirring up for another round from the deluge of _epic_ spank bank materials he just got a hold of a while ago. He never knew a string of _grunts_ and _growls_ were going to be such a hot masturbatory soundtrack. He shifted a bit at the thought, which Rhodey must have interpreted as him going up for a hug.

“That’s fine, Tones. You might put some parts out of place or something. I know how bonkers you get with that damn arm.” He said stiffly, holding up a palm facing the genius and nodded towards Tony, “I’m just here to tell your dumbass to join me for drinks later.”

Tony was being a goddamn bitch because he secretly thanked his lucky stars for two reasons. The first one being that his Platypus was even more furious with the Rogues than he was since Tony was mostly indifferent to them now. It made being busy tinkering with the parts of the vibranium arm in the lab an effective cover up. This could be just one passed off as one of Tony’s engineering binges.

The last thing Rhodey would think of as the reason for the genius’ stay in the lab moments ago would be Tony being taken by a 220 plus pounds of Soviet supersoldier assassin into the transcendental planes via _la_ _petite_ _mort_. Hey, in Tony’s defense, he _was_ working on something before Barnes decided that he wanted the engineer to work on a different kind of engine instead.

Honeybear hated the fact that Tony essentially went back to gearing the Rogues up because of Barnes, nonetheless they both knew it was necessary. No one could deny the fighting prowess of the Winter Soldier. For fuck’s sake, they all had to admit it, between the two beefcakes from Brooklyn, it’s pretty damn obvious who’s the more skilled fighter. Everyone, as well as their crazy cat lady neighbor, would agree that it’s _not_ Rogers.

The peanut gallery needed to shut up because he wasn’t being biased due to Barnes giving it to him real good earlier…

And by Tesla’s pigeons, it was just the _preview_.

Okay, fine, maybe a little.

Nevertheless, if one were to rank the whole team when it came overall skills, he would outclass the majority by leagues—yes, even _Romanoff_ , whom the man himself apparently trained. The argument that it was because the Black Widow didn’t have the supersoldier serum could be made, but then again, she fought _aliens_ and _genocidal_ _robots_ yet she still won. Add in that she only needed a _lullaby_ to calm a raging Hulk, so, yeah, argument’s invalid.

Point being, it’d be a big loss if they benched Barnes. Hell, the man could fight with only one arm but they couldn’t risk it nor could they send Barnes back to Wakanda for maintenance and every single time something in the arm got messed up. That, and the second reason he was grateful being the stains on his clothes weren’t visible, mostly hidden by the hoodie, and the one on his crotch covered by his desk.

“Sure thing, Honeybear. Pizza and chill night tonight, huh? Y’know, I was _this_ close to suiting up and joining you in Baghdad. Any fine, young things you wanna tell me about?” He chirped a tad late, almost vomiting the words, “Would love to give you a hug but… _Colonel’s_ orders. No vibranium parts skedaddling on the floor.”

He would not be moving from his seat to hug his Sourpatch, as he usually would, because he couldn’t risk Rhodey seeing his ruined sweatpants, the man would definitely come up with _accident_ jokes.

Pfft, who the fuck was he kidding? Rhodey would have smelled the cum on him if he got close. Shit, now that he thought about it, he could feel the spunk gluing his sweatpants and underwear to his skin. Dammit, he also didn’t get to completely wipe it off his hands.

_Gross._

Rhodey would rip Tony a new one for jacking off in the lab, the genius would definitely crumble like wet, single ply tissue and confess that he was actually messing around with Barnes. Then, his best friend would go on a murderous rampage. The last time Rhodey actively tried to beat Tony’s stupid ass, he got to steal an _armor_. If he found out about what happened minutes before he arrived, not even all of the Avengers combined could save Tony and Barnes from him. Hell, he’d sic Pepper on both of them too. Oh, dear God.

 _Pepper_.

She would find a way to bring them both back to life and then kill them again in the most painful way over and over again, like a sick imitation of Sisyphus. Tony quivered and it sure as hell wasn’t from the air conditioner.

The older man sardonically replied, “Whatever, you can hug me later, _Stank._ For your question, hell yeah, I went to Baghdad for two months as the military’s former liaison to Stark Industries because I wanted to pick them young ladies up, instead of verifying the reports of a weapons cartel dealing old, stolen SI weapons lurking about in there.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Real cute, Honeybear.”

Rhodey stared at the billionaire for a few more seconds though not enough for it to be too awkward, “Bring out the Blue Label too, because heaven knows I deserve it after dealing with Ross.”

Tony grimaced, “You can have that and everything you want, buddy.”

The older man chuckled, “You said it. And lemme tell you, even if I drink the entire bottle by myself, I won’t get wasted because the frustration will burn all the excess alcohol out of my system.”

The engineer laughed at the imagery, “Damn, I don’t know if I feel sorry or happy for you, Sourpatch.”

Rhodey only grabbed the grease stained cloth on the nearby table and threw it at Tony, “Shut it, brat.” Playfully grumbling when the seated man managed to avoid the projectile, “I guess I’ll just save my ranting for later, Tones. By the way, can you _please_ turn up the temp in here? The last time I checked, you’re running a lab, not a damn frozen goods section no matter how many supersoldiers live in this blasted Compound.”

That only made Tony almost fall sideways off his chair as he laughed, “Yes, mother.”

There was a flicker of something that passed through Rhodey’s eyes that Tony could not place. His only guess was that it was somewhere between amusement and muted disbelief because Rhodey exuded as much when Tony was being stupid back in college and beyond.

“No offense, Tones, but you’re cute but too frickin’ dumb to be my kid.”

The engineer gasped and pointed a finger at his best friend in mock outrage, “How dare you, James Rupert! I’m a freaking genius, everyone says so! I’ll have you know that if we ever have a baby, that kid’s gonna be smartest kid in the world!”

“Uh-huh, yeah sure. Whatever you say, baby mama.” Rhodey smirked, waving a hand dismissively at Tony, “Alright, fine. I ain’t to blame if the chimichangas you’ve been bugging me to buy disappeared. I’m starving.”

“Don’t you dare!”

* * *

After that visit from Rhodey, Tony was left to stew over what happened with Barnes and using more concealer than he had ever done in his tv appearances in the next few days.

That was close.

Dear Thor, they only managed to avoid the fallout due to Barnes’ quick thinking. Yes, they’re both consenting adults, neither were blushing virgins forced to get deflowered by the other nor brainwashed into wanting to be partnered with one another to do the horizontal mambo _repeatedly_.

Completely consensual.

Cool.

So, what the hell was the problem?

The answer?

 _Everything_.

It was wrong.

 _They_ were wrong.

It shouldn’t have happened.

 _They_ shouldn’t have happened.

Tony should’ve thought with the head that housed his brain instead of the demanding one between his legs that tend to turn him stupid.

The genius could take a bit of comfort with the fact that it was, easily, in the top five of the hottest sex he’d ever had and they’d barely passed second base. However, it still didn’t stop him from impersonating a gazelle whenever he saw Barnes though. Meaning, he had to get the fuck out of there when it was only the two of them in one room and he leapt at every opportunity to not be within arm’s reach of the man when around the others.

They all barely got to patch the team up after the goddamn Civil War. Tony was not going to bury his head under the sand and pretend that it would be sunshine and unicorns with rainbow sprinkles on top if the team finds out that he had hooked up with Barnes. Sure, there were reasons why he went after the man in that bunker in Siberia, _legitimate_ ones. That should have been the only time he had entertained going after the man for whatever reason.

All of what happened a few days ago?

Wrapping his arms around the super soldier’s neck, not to cut off the man’s oxygen but to make sure his tongue would embark on a journey to explore Tony’s mouth and throat? Pressing himself closer to Barnes’ frame because he wanted those hands and that _wicked_ mouth to decorate his skin in _bites_ and _marks_ that tingled with the slightest bit of movement?

Those were not the actions of a Tony thinking with his brain.

Ugh.

And to think he had the audacity to reprimand Maximoff for saying he would jump into bed with anyone. Dammit, he had proven her right the moment he taunted Barnes into kissing him senseless that time.

This shit was going to blow up not just in Tony and Barnes’ faces but the whole team’s. Which would suck big time because Lord knew Barton and Maximoff need more fuel in their crusade against him. The moment those two find out, they’d be dusting the trail with bread crumbs to lead the angry mob led by Rogers into evil Tony Stark’s gingerbread house like they were playing a more deranged version of Hansel and Gretel. Rogers raised both of his middle fingers to a hundred and seventeen countries because he wanted to protect Barnes from Tony. If the blond finds out about this, forget Barton and Maximoff, Rogers would go bananas.

Oh, to make matters worse? _Howard_ had begun visiting him again in his sleep. Yelling about how _twisted_ was Tony that he actually wanted to be the _bedwarmer_ of his parents’ murderer. How ashamed he was of his inconsiderate, worthless son whom not only sullied the Stark name but lowered himself to the role of a butcher’s _whore_.

Fuck.

Tony pulled himself out of the thought with herculean effort, turning to one of FRIDAY’s cameras and asked her for some music, “Just pick a random radio station, baby girl. Maybe we could listen to some ballads or something for a change. Just none of the Gen Z stuff that Peter and Harley usually listen to.”

“Yes, Boss.” FRIDAY replied and the last vestiges of a frisky beat filled the workshop.

_‘He’s a slut, he’s a hoe, he’s a freak. Got a different girl every day of the week,_

_‘He’s a slut, he’s a hoe, he’s a freak. Got a different girl every day of the week.’_

The engineer sputtered and nearly dropped his tablet when the lyrics made a dent in his focus, “What the actual f—”

“I’m sorry, Boss. When I tuned in to the station, I dinnae get to check the song they’re playing. Shall we tune in to a different one?”

“It’s fine. It’s done anyway.” He waved a hand dismissively, no need to be too sensitive. It was just a coincidence, not his baby’s fault. He turned back to his plan for the upgrade he’d put into the new Starkphone they’d launch next month.

In the following minute, Tony wanted to slam his head on the table until his skull caved in and his gray matter was smeared all over the shiny surface, apparently, even radio stations had it out for him.

_‘Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah,_

_I know that you’ve been waiting for it, I’m waiting too_

_In my imagination, I’d be all up on you_

_I know you got that fever for me: hundred and two_

_And boy, I know I feel the same_

_My temperature’s through the roof.’_

He rubbed at his eyes with his fists in frustration, someone was truly laughing at him.

_‘Touch my body, put me on the floor_

_Wrestle me around, play with me some more,_

_Touch my body, throw me on the bed,_

_I just wanna make you feel like you never did_

_Touch my body, let me wrap my thighs_

_All around your waist, just a little taste_

_Touch my body, know you love my curves_

_Come on and give me what I deserve.’_

Ha.

What do you know, it was not just his nightly slideshow of Barnes that had such a banging, yay for the pun, soundtrack but so did his other Barnes related dilemma. _Awesome_. Be that as it may, Tony’s not going to throw the towel over a few songs. He’s Iron Man for fuck’s sake. He’s dealt with terrorists, aliens and killer AIs before. He—

_‘See, I’m going through a situation that I can’t help._

_Wanna get a little closer, but I promised myself_

_That I would never give my heart away again,_

_Ooh, ooh babe._

_I know it’s hard but ya gotta understand it_

_The truth is all the hurt and the pain_

_And the shit that you get when you have it ain’t worth it._

_I’ve been there so many times,_

Hell, no.

Seriously? Tony ran a hand over his lips, barely resisting the urge to carelessly chuck his tablet as he placed in on the table.

“This is a nice song.” FRIDAY piped.

“Huh. Glad you like it, FRI.” Tony deadpanned. Not that it wasn’t a nice song, it was great. The lyrics were just a little too on the nose for him.

“Yes, it’s more _appropriate_ than the first one.”

The genius quickly looked at the nearest one of FRIDAY’s cameras and blinked.

Wow. The shade of it all.

_'I should know better, but I can’t stop what I feel_

_When you’re next to me, I really think I…_

_Finally found somebody_

_That could be the one._

_But I promised myself_

_That I wouldn't give in to love_

_And I'm scared,_

_And I'm nervous_

_Don't wanna be hurt anymore_

_This is bad_

_'Cause I know that you're the one(Baby you're the one)_

_(Baby you're the one).’_

Alright, that was it.

He looked up to a no particular point in the ceiling before grouching with immense chagrin, “C’mon, Mariah! What did I ever do to you?! I’ve always been polite every time we run into each other at parties.”

As though she had actually heard him, the woman’s angelic voice replied with,

_‘So the question is_

_One: do I really wanna trust this feeling?_

_Two: do I wanna let it pass me by?_

_Three: do you think it's only superficial?_

_Four: could it actually be different this time?_

_Someone to love me,_

_Someone to be my everything.’_

Screw it, he shouldn’t have asked for some change in his music because he felt a bit sappy. Loki was probably masquerading as the damn DJ just so he could fuck with him, “FRI, cut it off. I’ll go up to the kitchen to grab something for breakfast.”

“Would you still like to tune in to this station upon your return to the lab, Boss?”

The genius narrowed his eyes at the question, he couldn’t pinpoint what it was exactly but there was something suggestive in that seemingly innocent query. Damn, of course his sassy baby girl would push for something that would make him think about Barnes. She liked that bastard so much that Tony had to wonder if Barnes had somehow done something to her code.

“No, baby girl. Anymore _accidental_ shades and I’ll end up bleeding on the floor.”

“Yes, Boss.”

* * *

Had he ever mentioned another reason why he and Rogers always clashed? Because of two things: his own abominable luck and Star spangled asshat’s bad timing. As it was, both things were in the works because he found himself getting ushered by an awfully cheerful Captain America into a seat at the table before he could so much as breathe a protest.

“Good thing you’ve decided to come up for breakfast, Tony.”

Tony may as well have a spotlight in his face pointblank with how fucking blinding Rogers’ smile was. Something must have happened, he thought.

For a man like Rogers to be this exuberant so damn early in the morning and be more luminous than the Stark Tower at the full capacity of the arc reactor...

Wait, did he get laid?

Must have. How else would the guy be able to get that 20-storey stick out of his ass?

So, that meant he and Sharon were gonna be official now?

After almost a century in ice, several years of fighting and then hiding from the world governments, Rogers must have figured it was time to increase the population of the bald eagles—if that stupid meme the brats showed him before was to be believed.

Not that he cared, but the way the man was beaming at him like the Sun fast-forwarded to supernova was creeping him out. Apart from that, everyone else seemed to have evaporated out of the Compound— _please,_ let it be the case— because of the intensity and were suspiciously absent. Not to mention, the amount of omelets, bacon and pancakes Rogers prepared was enough for at least six people.

Confused, Tony only sipped his coffee and was almost startled when a plate containing a hefty serving was placed in front of him.

“Eat up.” Rogers smiled down at him like some benevolent saint, “Even Iron Man can’t survive on coffee alone.” He added before turning back to the stove to fill his own plate. Tony was halfway done with his coffee when he noticed the plate in front of him had suddenly disappeared.

“These pancakes are really good.”

With dread filling him up along with an annoyingly sick sense of déjà vu, Tony’s head swiveled to Barnes who casually stood beside him. On his hand was the plate the blond had set up for the genius and he was eating with relish.

Tony was going to put some fucking chimes on that damn arm if it was the last thing he’d ever do.

Rogers, for his part, quickly turned to see his best friend eating from Tony’s plate. He looked as though someone ripped his puppy to pieces with the way he was looking at Barnes, “Buck, that’s Tony’s…” he sighed as he sat at the table in front of Tony.

For a split second, Tony thought he had seen a gleam of challenge in Barnes’ eyes but he could be wrong, since the man was so damn stoic. They would have an easier time deciphering the man’s thoughts if his expressions were not as dry and cold as Antarctica all the time.

Barnes shrugged, set the plate and fork back on the table then pulled the seat beside Tony, “I thought it was fair game, he ain’t touching it.”

“You could’ve just asked me to set you up with your own plate.”

“Christ, Stevie… I just got out of the gym, worked up an appetite, went up here and saw food. I was too hungry to let it sit here and go to waste. Not like it’s gonna eat itself with Stark just staring at it like it will attack him or something.”

Tony tuned out the conversation after that. He couldn’t care less about Barnes eating his food really. He had other, more pressing matters at hand to think about since the man decided to show up. In the previous days, he had figured out that no, he wasn’t imagining things. On top of him doing his best gazelle impersonation when Barnes came into his line of sight, the super soldier was also avoiding him. Wait, scratch that—he was giving Tony space _._

Space _._

_Space._

_SPACE._

**_SPACE_ ** _._

 **_ SPACE _ ** _._

He seemed to be aware that Tony was feeling all kinds of confused and guilty—nothing new here, people—regarding what happened between them, never mind that Tony hadn’t mentioned anything. Shit, bastard actually went and showed Tony who was the more levelheaded one between them and he was the one whose head was screwed a hundred ways to Sunday by a group of Nazi fucks.

It wasn’t that Tony didn’t see how it made Barnes surlier than usual, how he always kept an eye on the smaller brunet to check if Tony was alright when the others were around but still maintained his distance. Or, that he left the room on his own accord because Tony wasn’t comfortable with him being so close at the moment when they found themselves alone.

Brainwashing? Fuck that. Winnifred Barnes drilled chivalry into her child’s head too well that no matter how much electrocution his brain had gone through it was still there. She raised a gentleman. Exactly like a goddamn heartthrob from those cheesy, romantic comedies Pepper was secretly obsessed with.

Well, hot damn.

Wouldn’t that mean Tony’s the hard to get but _thirsty-as-hell_ heroine in this mess?

In that case, he’d better change his name and call himself Mary Sue or maybe Marys to sound more trendy. He could even dye his hair blonde to complete the look. Dear God, it would be like early 2000s again. How he had ever thought that bleaching his hair in a bright, almost lemony yellow was the height of fashion, was still a mystery. His brain cells would die all at once before he got his answer or something. Hell, it was probably those godforsaken tequila shots laced with MSG that he and Rhodey had decided to try for size back then. Must be, two shots in and they were already loopier than they would have been during dentist appointments.

God of Thunder, never again.

Anyway, as impressive as it was, there seemed to be a limit to Barnes’ patience. It was in the form of Tony and a huge blond in red, white and blue being in the same space at the same time by themselves.

_Once is a fluke, twice is a coincidence, thrice is a pattern._

Now that Tony was actually taking notice, it was pretty clear that Barnes was not happy with him being alone with Rogers. Frankly, Tony wasn’t too enthused about being in the golden boy from Brooklyn’s presence either but, this was a bit odd because Barnes comes across as quite, dare he say it, _territorial_.

Tony wouldn’t even think of breathing to anyone nor anything that Barnes was channeling his inner caveman because of him, that would be ridiculous. The soldiers were practically brothers, same as Tony and Rhodey, thus the behavior was somewhat disconcerting. Only explanation would be Barnes had the idea that Tony would get into another fight with Rogers and he’s afraid that the genius would throw their hookup into the blond’s face to shut him up.

The billionaire cringed at the notion. Nah, Barnes wouldn’t be that kind of an asshole. The hell was he thinking? The man could just be afraid that he and Rogers would kill each other if left alone together. Period. To be honest, who could ever blame him? There were times that just being in the same room, let alone talking to Rogers pissed Tony off to the point that he’d be happy to use the suit to thrash the blond to get him to shut the fuck up.

Tony barely caught himself from jumping a little when he felt the solid heat of Barnes’ thigh as it brushed against his under the table when the man shifted, bringing him back to the conversation. He also took note that Barnes’ thigh stayed touching his, the soldier obviously had no intention of moving it away.

“—what’s that got to do with anything? Sam’s just too obsessed with his thighs and quads like he’s the damn poster boy for Men’s Health.” Barnes snorted, before taking a sip of coffee.

Rogers rolled his eyes, “Stop acting all mean to Sam, Buck. I know deep down you actually appreciate him.”

The brunet supersoldier only clucked his tongue and snipped, “Who would appreciate that dumbass?”

“Whatever you say, Buck.” Rogers laughed.

The conversation naturally died and the quiet was filled with the sound of utensils, mainly from the supersoldiers eating their weight hurriedly, while Tony just contented himself with nibbling on some strips of bacon and a few bites of omelet. That had gone for several more minutes but like all good things, it inexorably came into an end.

Rogers finished his orange juice and wiped his lips with the napkin before turning to Tony, his smile was again dialed back to a billion megawatts, “By the way, do you remember that charity ball we went to years ago, Tony? Before your conference in London. The one where we got cornered by that general with the too young wife.”

Tony took a long sip of his coffee and wondered about the suddenness of the question, frowning a little, “The one for the veterans?” when Rogers nodded, he continued, “Yeah. What about it?”

Barnes, who was also done with his meal, had a small frown on his lips as well while he looked at Rogers. Tony also noticed the slight narrowing of those gray eyes that Rogers seemed to be impervious to or could be he just willfully ignored it. The billionaire was willing to bet all of his armors that it was mostly the latter.

The juxtaposition of the immaculate smile that graced Rogers’ face with the slight, almost unnoticeable clenching of Barnes’ jaw was enough to let Tony know that he wasn’t going to like whatever was going to escape from the barrier created by Rogers’ perfect aligned and obnoxiously white teeth.

“Well, I just received a message from the organizer last night. It will be held a little earlier than usual, three days from now. Same place, same time and they’re inviting us.”

The genius let that percolate in his head for a moment. That would be a good opportunity to get the Avengers back into the more trustworthy light. The public was still wary of the enhanced, of the Avengers in particular. The event was going to be filled to the brim with people that were the well-known in the upper crust, the who’s who in philanthropy, the brass and influential politicians. It was also going to be open to some select members of the media. The Avengers, the original team anyway, hadn’t been strangers to galas like this, but it had been the ones held by the foundations under SI. Going would give the team great advantage to show the public that the enhanced were capable of cooperating with parts of the community that dedicate themselves to protecting the people and making the world a better place.

Shockingly utilitarian but, it was how things were mostly presented nowadays—need funds for cancer research? Get the most popular bunch you could get your hands on in show business, throw them in a concert, stream it online and voila, an avalanche of donations. This famous person was caught being rude or abusive? They’ll lay low for a while then show up to do some _humanitarian_ work somewhere in Africa. A personality abusing their spouse, spewing multiple lies and blackmailing them for real estate? That personality would be signing up to all of the _relevant_ causes and be the spokesperson to gain sympathy.

No, he wasn’t saying that the Avengers were like the assholes in the latter examples. Then why choose to re-introduce the Avengers and the enhanced to the public in that same way?

Simple.

That’s what the public was most familiar with.

Even if the public liked the idea of shocking and shaking the system thru individuals that had the power to do so, thus the initial adoration for the Avengers, they would still scuttle and hide away in fear the moment those individuals proved to be too capable of doing both. To the point that an internal struggle would affect the entire world, the Civil War being the prime example.

People were fine with several changes happening in the system so long as it was for their benefit and they could keep their semblance of normalcy. During the War, the Avengers proved that they were part of the individuals that were not only capable of shaking the system but with more push could actually _destroy_ it. Of course, if the system was to be destroyed, who were the ones to take full brunt of it?

That would be the people.

Having the Avengers in line with those that had a hand in keeping the system intact would help in creating a way for the enhanced and the public to accept one another since the Avengers were the frontliners of the superhero/enhanced community. A lot of pros kind of situation if one thought about it. A way of allaying the public unrest and easing them into accepting the enhanced again as one of their defenders, building up connections for the team to avoid the bullshit that went in during the preliminary creation of the Accords where the enhanced were all but muzzled and leashed by the world governments.

Huh.

Apparently, Rogers did have political thingamajig up in his bulky sleeves.

“Okay.” Tony acquiesced, “Not sure why you’re telling us this now, when you and Rhodey could just draw up a roster of those who’ll attend during the team meeting tomorrow. That way those with missions could be taken into account.”

Rogers sighed in fond exasperation, his grin not faltering in any way. The engineer squashed the vicious urge in him that wanted to smash his mug into that face. This bastard really had the gall to show Tony that closely held expression that his _real_ friends and support system would give him. After New York, before Sokovia, before the _Civil War,_ he would’ve been over the moon to see that on Rogers’ face but now?

Hell, no.

He had lost the right when he had blatantly showed everyone that he had no trust in Tony. When he threw it in Tony’s face with all the force he could muster with the help of the serum, in the form of punches and a vibranium shield to the chest.

When he left Tony to die in that HYDRA bunker in Siberia.

Leaving him to the cold, along with the dead Winter Soldiers, without so much as a backward glance.

When he took the little _family_ they had built over the years away and rubbed it in Tony’s face through that damn letter.

They were teammates but they’re not friends.

They never were.

Tony may have been the one to say _‘So was I’_ but that wasn’t quite right, was it? It was only him who thought they were friends. He was the one who forced himself into being inside the bubble of Steve Rogers’ friendship. He was the unwanted one who disturbed the delicate balance Steve wanted around him. Another thing he’d proven right. Howard must be rolling in his grave, kicking his feet in the air as he laughed hysterically.

_‘Steve’s too good a man to be friends with you, Tony. Don’t be absurd.’_

He wasn’t lying when he said that he was indifferent to the Rogues, he could deal with them just fine if pushed. However, Tony required a different, much more sturdy mask when it came to Steve Rogers. He had collected a lot of scraps from Howard’s words and melted them into a mask he’d wear when Steve Rogers came up in the conversations when he was still a child.

He’d toughened that mask with the admiration he felt for the man who punched Hitler in the jaw. It had been easy, creating a mask to deal with something he would never have the chance to be on par with. Captain America was gone, not even Howard who had spent all of his free time looking for the man in a flag found him. There wasn’t anything to worry about.

Oh, the folly of youth.

He still ended up using his mask and his walls as he grew up under Howard’s disdainful glares. He had realized that protecting yourself from those who didn’t need to be physically present was even more difficult than one would expect. But like with everything that came his way, he learned to deal with it. Steve Rogers still had cut Tony every now and then, but Tony had his mask. He was also able to deflect better than he did as a kid. He was fine, even with an outdated mask. He had _decades_ to upgrade the mask, however he got lazy, lulled by the notion that Steve Rogers was dead. It became easier, bearable, until he met the man beneath the flag decades later.

How foolish.

Now he was left with a mask that was as dented and scarred as his old armors. The only difference was, unlike his armors, he had no time to forge a stronger one since he was faced with an _actual_ and even _sharper_ Steve Rogers every single day than the one Howard created for him.

Something cold tightened around his knee and it was enough to give him an escape from the awful little jaunt his thoughts had gone. He had recognized Barnes’ metal hand though he didn’t dare look down nor did he remove the hand.

“I don’t suppose I’ll be chosen?” Barnes asked with a lazy smirk, raising a brow, “Always did wonder what those fancy galas are like since Sam and Barton won’t stop talking about them.” The taller brunet was injecting some breeziness into the atmosphere to keep Tony focused, at the same time away from doing something drastic.

He then made a show of shifting his chair a little closer to the table and Tony as though he was sharing a naughty, little secret to the other two. Maybe he was, albeit the secret was only shared with Tony. The hand he had on Tony’s knee was maneuvered effortlessly and inconspicuously behind the engineer’s chair.

Tony subtly leaned back into his seat when he felt those cold fingers immediately begin drumming on his back through the slats of the backrest. Barnes was doing the pattern he had accidentally discovered when doing a routine tapping exercise during maintenance of the arm. The one Tony told him was comforting because it sounded like the beeping trills of his bots when they’re happy. The man’s flesh hand was also tapping on the table in time with his other hand, to disguise what he was actually doing from Rogers’ enhanced hearing no doubt.

Adept in reading his moods and would respond accordingly? Sharp, quick wit and blessed with amazing coordination? Not the time but damn if Tony wasn’t a little weak in the knees.

He had to bite back a sigh. If only Rogers wasn’t here, Tony would have kissed the living daylights out of James Barnes in gratitude. The shame and guilt also threatened to burst out of the genius. Regardless of the way Tony had treated Barnes the past few days, here he was, still willing to anchor Tony so that he wouldn’t get lost in the haywire of emotions inside him.

Just when Tony thought that Rogers’ smile couldn’t get any brighter, it had gone up multiple notches as he looked at the genius. It was flavored with that _misleading_ boyish charm along with some of that ‘aw, shucks’ bashfulness that the blond radiated when he received a compliment or any particularly good news.

The gentle tapping had abruptly stopped, both of them, and Tony gave Barnes a lightning quick glance from the corner of his eyes. When he saw the tightness around the man’s eyes and felt the slight digging of the metal fingers in his back, he finally hit nail on the head.

_They’re inviting us._

Fuck.

When Rogers said _us_ , he didn’t mean the Avengers as a whole.

He meant **_him_** **_and_** **_Tony_**.

Judging by the way some red suffused the apples of the man’s cheeks and how he self-consciously scratched his nape, Tony was right.

“Actually, Buck…I’m afraid, the invitation was only extended to me and Tony.” Rogers answered apologetically, looking at Barnes. Tony wanted to roll his eyes, even an idiot could tell that Rogers was anything but.

The metal fingers tightened even more on his back, not enough to hurt but still noticeable.

“Oh?” Barnes replied blandly, his eyes were bright however. Like he was waiting for something. The genius hoped it was going to be helpful whatever he was waiting for.

“They could’ve just invited everyone. Why is it just me and you?” Tony quickly drawled, suddenly irritated. He could tell Rogers detected some of it in his voice because the sheepishness was turned more evident but it was an authentic one. Thank God.

“Erm…well, it’s a veteran’s charity gala so there’s me and the organizer specifically asked for you since you know them.”

Tony then rolled his eyes, irritation now in full bloom, “I could still be there if they have invited the whole team. You’re not telling me the whole gist of it.”

The flush from Rogers’ face also reached full bloom as he cleared his throat, a peculiar sight when paired with the determined look in his eyes.

“Okay. The organizer did ask for the whole team but one of the Accords committee members will also be in attendance. He sent me a message suggesting that it’ll be better if it was just me and you for now.”

Barnes made a noncommittal sound at that as Tony slumped slightly in his seat. The metal hand began tracing lines on his back to provide some comfort whilst the flesh hand remained still on top of the table.

“Why the hell would that be better?”

Tony couldn’t give a damn if his voice carried a little higher. He was really annoyed and this ambiguousness from Rogers was ticking him off.

A harsh, _tired_ sigh escaped from Rogers as he shot Barnes a look that clearly said ‘ _See what I have to deal with, Buck?’_ then a weird, sly smile flitted on the corners of Rogers’ lips when he answered. Would have been undetectable, had Tony not been trained to read facial cues from a young age and also in part of that face being open most of the time.

“Tony, it would be beneficial to the team if we attend together as leaders of the team.”

“I’m not in a leading position, everyone knows that. Rhodey’s the co-leader, you should be asking him to go with you.” He shot back.

That weird smile went a smidge more prominent as Rogers retorted, “Not everyone knows that. The public still considers you the _face_ of the Avengers and the Accords. When they think of the Avengers, they immediately think of Tony Stark. To the people, leader of the Avengers meant _me and you._ Think about it, the Civil War happened with us leading opposing sides. If the people see us _together,_ the public would be rest assured that we are not fighting anymore. It will make people trust us again.”

Tony stiffened. Oh, so that was how it was going to be? He had been thinking something similar but for Rogers to actually use the situation to manipulate Tony into spending time with him was sickening. Who would’ve thought ever-perfect Captain America would be one self-serving son of a bitch?

He opened his mouth to raise all hell on Rogers’ ass when Barnes, who had been suspiciously quiet, butted in.

“Even with all that, I still don’t see any problem if I tagged along to the gala.” Barnes leaned back on his seat, his demeanor utterly relaxed yet his face gave nothing away. His metal hand no longer tracing but stroking Tony’s back leisurely. The genius had to suppress a series of shivers as the cold fingers would periodically press his shirt against his spine. The metal fingers rubbing against the fabric was creating a bit of static and it was all Tony could do not to _writhe_ and _moan_ out loud whenever he felt it. He turned to glare discreetly at Barnes and an entire dictionary of obscenities almost erupted from his throat.

How the man managed to make his smugly _satisfied_ demeanor paired with that sharp glint in his eyes that said a gauntlet had been thrown down look so _benignly persuasive_ must be some form of goddamn sorcery.

“Buck, I know you wanted to go, but the invitation—“

“Was extended to the _whole team.”_ Barnes mildly countered staring Rogers directly in the eye, “Besides, you did say it was a _veteran’s_ charity gala. C'mon, surely having fought alongside you during the World War and being the longest prisoner of war in history, I could be considered as such?”

Rogers looked taken aback, “C’mon, Buck. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

The blond belatedly realized with a wince that his reply had been a tad sharp. A sign of defensiveness.

“Of course, you don’t Stevie. I know you.” Barnes suavely replied, his expression warmer than it had been moments ago, “But, you have to think about it. What seeing the leaders of the Avengers attending that gala with the former HYDRA assassin, who is turning over a new leaf, could do to the public opinion? Most of what happened during the Civil War started with me anyway, so it’s fitting that you’ll bring me along with you. If I were to be seen _together_ with Stark, who was the leader of the side we fought against…it will reinforce the idea that you two are no longer fighting. After all, before the Avengers, Captain America had _Sergeant_ James Buchanan Barnes and the Howling Commandos to fight beside him. People still remember that. I mean, pretty sure they still have my pictures in the Smithsonian even after I was outed as the Winter Soldier.”

Rogers blanched a little but stubbornly held his ground, “You have a point Buck, but I don’t know if the organizer will agree.”

“The organizer invited the whole team, Steve. The Accords committee member only _suggested_ that it should only be you and Stark. Tell you what, since the organizer was adamant to see Stark there, why don’t we let _him_ call the organizer and ask if I could go with you?” Tony had to blink at how smoothly Barnes had directed the conversation to him.

“Yeah, sure.” The genius shrugged, “I can do that. The guy owes me a couple of favors anyway.”

Tony had to bite his tongue when Barnes gave Rogers a pointed look similar to the one the blond presented him with earlier. _‘See, I got this Stevie.’_

“But—“

Barnes deftly leaned over the table and clasped his metal hand over the meat of Rogers’ shoulder, without letting the man notice where his hand had been, “Fine. Let’s compromise, you let me go to the gala, I’ll play nice with Sam.” He blinked then mused, “Wait, that dumbass went on two tours, right? Iraq, if I remember correctly. Maybe we should include him.”

Rogers looked alarmed, “Wait, Buck…I think you, me and Tony are enough.”

The minute smile Barnes gave Rogers had an almost _Cheshire_ quality to it and Tony clamped down on a shudder than ran up his spine. That smile was all sharp teeth even if the man’s mouth was closed.

“Hmm, I don’t think so, Stevie. There’s an implied imbalance of power if there’s two of us and Stark’s by himself. We have to eliminate that if we want to present you two as _co_ - _leaders_. If we’re promoting the team unity, we should level the playing field. Sam and I will be from your side, Colonel Rhodes and Natalia from Stark’s side.”

“Nat’s a spy not a soldier.” The blond reacted, still not willing to give up.

Barnes settled back in his seat, languidly perching his metal arm on the back of Tony’s chair. His body language was open but obviously holding his ground, “True. But like Stark, Natalia had been the _face_ of the Accords and she fought with him. Even if she joined us later on, people only knew that she went on the run on her own for a different reason. The general public didn’t know that she was with us in Wakanda until later. Most people think she turned to us because we’re under the radar, not because she was against Stark. Plus, she was one of the first signatories of the Accords.”

Rogers only closed his eyes and leaned back before turning what could possibly the one of the most pitiful iteration of the puppy dog eyes at Tony.

Barnes laughed inwardly, drawing their attention back to him, “Let it go, pal. I’ll give you a run for your money. I can do this all day too, you know.” He chided gently, lightly shaking his head.

Tony saw Rogers’ lips open and close a few times before he settled to worrying it between his bone white teeth while his shoulders sagged. The genius had to wonder what his own face must look like with his own mouth open and wide eyes. Possibly like a constipated owlet.

Thor have mercy.

Apparently, HYDRA wasn’t able to wipe away Barnes’ 20th century sass even after decades of brainwashing and torture. He’d heard of Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes’ _assholery_ from Howard when he was young, probably because his father was always at the end of the man’s barbs. He also saw the man give some members of the team a harsh tongue-lashing days ago, but to see him play the shade game?

Forget shade, the man just threw the whole goddamn Amazon rainforest at his own _best friend_ without batting an eyelash.

Before the silence got too stifling, Tony got up from his seat, “I better go make that call now, so we could have extra passes for the others on time. Thanks for the breakfast, Rogers. See you guys later.”

Barnes quickly gathered the plates and placed them in the sink, “Yeah. Thanks for the meal, Stevie. I’ll do the dishes later after my shower.”

Rogers nodded and went out of his seat as well, “No problem. I’ll see you guys, later.” He sighed heavily before seemingly dragging himself out of the dining area, leaving before the other two could. Tony held back a snort, it’s no wonder why Rogers was forlornly leaving since Barnes had mercilessly annihilated him in that little showdown. Though Rogers probably thought it was just another one of Barnes’ _‘Bucky acting up’_ moments.

* * *

Tony let a few minutes pass before he turned to Barnes who had started washing the dishes, “I thought you’d do that after your shower?” he winced at how stupid he sounded.

The man threw a glance at Tony over his right shoulder, then continued with his task, “Yeah, that was when I thought you’d leave first. But, you stayed and since the way to out is right behind you, I’m staying here. Doing the dishes.” He punctuated that statement by turning the tap and rinsing the plates.

The genius blinked and rolled that statement in his head then blurted out an utterly confused, “ _Why_?”

Barnes went still for a moment then closed the tap and turned to face Tony. He seemed to be searching for something in Tony’s face and absently nodded to himself when he found it, still not saying anything.

Tony went from confused to annoyed in a matter of seconds, “What?!” he scowled. Barnes’ lips twitched and he sighed, turning back to the dishes.

“I’m not sure if you’re already fine with me being near you, that’s why I’m giving you time to leave. I don’t think you’d like a repeat of earlier. I took advantage of Steve’s presence to be close to you.”

The fight evaporated out of the smaller man like an open bottle of acetone, “Oh.” Wasn’t that just the grandest thing? He was ready to bite Rogers’ head off for doing the same thing using the gala yet he hardly had any complaints with whatever Barnes was doing earlier. He couldn’t tell which one out the three of them was the most messed up one in this scenario.

Barnes chuckled, “Yes. Oh.” He quickly finished drying the dishes and placing them on the dish rack. He grabbed some paper towels, dried his hands and leaned against the sink before turning to fully face Tony.

“Do you want me to leave?”

The billionaire fought the urge to slap a hand over his mouth when the question slipped out. The soldier’s gray eyes went darker, his countenance a nudge closer to the Winter Soldier patina but still fundamentally different. His face may look vacant but the deceptively casual stance was filled with an edge that Tony couldn’t place.

“ _Do you?_ ”

To the casual observer, it may sound like Barnes couldn’t give a fuck whatever the answer was due to his deadened delivery. However, to Tony who had been around the man multiple times and had heard the underlying nuances of the way the man spoke, he knew that the answer mattered very much to Barnes. He didn’t really have to think hard about what his answer would be.

He shook his head.

The effect was almost instantaneous that Tony had to wonder if BARF had really removed all of Barnes’ triggers, because the deadly edge dissipated and the empty, dark cast in the man’s eyes lessened dramatically.

“Babydoll.” Barnes sighed as he crossed the distance between them in four strides, cupping the smaller man’s face with both hands and pressing his lips on the genius’ forehead.

Tony reflexively pursed his lips at the endearment.

That was just embarrassing as fuck.

He could handle Barnes calling him ‘doll’, he’d been called that before but c’mon, ‘ _babydoll’_? He was a grown ass man, for goodness’ sake! He ran the term inside his head and did something he hadn’t done in years—he blushed. When he felt Barnes end the kiss to look at him, Tony tried to duck his head to no avail because the man gently pushed his jaw up to face him. Left with nothing to do, he settled for a glare. Predictably futile effort on Tony’s part because the man’s sharp gray eyes gleamed with relish and those wicked lips quirked in a half-smirk.

“Why Stark, are you blushing?”

Tony refused to rise to the bait and narrowed his eyes further to the man’s delight.

“C’mon, this is the first time we’ve properly talked to each other in days. Won’t you talk to me? Please, _babydoll_?” Barnes purred. Huh, somebody was in a good mood.

He may not be as pale as Barnes but he knew the flush still stood out against his lightly bronzed skin. With gritted teeth, he replied, “Shut the fuck up, you asshole. Don’t call me that.”

The taller man laughed that low, rough sound that accompanied Tony in his nightly—guilt filled—journey to pornographic dreamland, “What? _Babydoll_? Why not?”

Tony wanted to smack the man but settled for his best deadpan face, blush be damned, “Stop acting dumb, you ain’t cute. I’m way _older_ than you and I don’t remember us being in the nicknames stage yet.” Weak comeback but it was the best he could do at the moment so sue him.

Barnes seemed to bask in the hilarity of the situation, “So…we’re at the stage where jamming our tongues down each other’s throats and hand jobs are fine but we still have yet to get to the nicknames stage. Got it.”

Tony would forever deny the indignant squawk he let out at that. Dammit, he really was a Marys.

“Though I must point out a few flaws in your logic, Stark.” Barnes commented airily, watching Tony’s face for his reaction.

Damn this man.

He really knew which buttons to push and Tony just couldn’t ignore that jab.

“Oh, yeah? Pray tell, what are these so-called _flaws_?”

Barnes’ flesh hand moved further back to let his fingers scratch Tony’s nape and tangle with the genius’ hair. Tony almost wanted to protest because of how distracting it was, that was just cheating.

“One: I’m _older_ than you. I’m a hundred years old, you’re in your forties. God, I met your father when he was in his _twenties_. I’m more than twice your age. I’m practically snatching from the cradle, it’s almost criminal. Two, I’m not the one who threw out a nickname before we even had a proper conversation. So, we haven’t reached the nicknames stage yet? Babydoll, that ship has fuckin’ sailed. We went straight to that stage before we even said _hello_ to each other.”

The reference to Siberia had Tony snapping back, moving several steps away from Barnes.

“Doll?”

“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it. Just remembered something.”

The shorter brunet inwardly grimaced at the words. Wrong choices.

Barnes’ eyes narrowed as he recalled the flow the conversation. Tony saw the epiphany occur and the soldier regarded him with wide eyes.

The man was about to reach out to him but they both turned to see Lang lumber into the kitchen, yawning and rubbing at his eyes. Before the ex-con noticed the other occupants, Barnes gave him a pleading look asking Tony, not to stay, but to not _hide_ from him again.

Tony shook his head.

_No, I won’t._

Barnes’ fingers twitched like he wanted to grab onto Tony just to make sure he wouldn’t disappear.

“I just need to think, to clear some things in my head.”

The soldier nodded, “I’ll see you later.”

_You can tell me when you’re ready to talk._

The genius gratefully returned the nod and went out of the dining room, startling Lang when he greeted him along with a tap on his shoulder as he passed by.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To [lendaryjack](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lendaryjack)  
> I am really sorry, my stupid ass accidentally deleted your comment for this chapter. The comment is highly appreciated and I thank you for it as well as reading this fic. 
> 
> To those wondering, I do like Mariah Carey a lot, hence her songs. Not an avid Lamb (my mom and cousins are though). Anyway, the songs made it into the fic because during a family gathering last week my cousins played some of her songs and while the speakers were doing their thing, I was like "WTF?! The woman is singing about my whole fic!" 
> 
> P.S. I've noticed that Bucky's becoming shady as hell in this fic.
> 
> Songs in order: A No No; Touch My Body; The One (all written and performed by Mariah Carey)


	4. Shedding the sheep's clothing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _‘You’re meant for more than this.’_  
> 
> 
> He was, but why wasn’t he able to do more?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please forgive me for not updating this!
> 
> Please accept this chapter as my apology.
> 
> Again, no beta... not a Native English speaker and all mistakes are mine.  
> Proceed with caution because this is **NOT TEAM CAP FRIENDLY**
> 
> Please enjoy...and uh... also, you might need a shower after this.
> 
> **WARNING: Skin-crawl inducing thoughts and behavior up ahead**

Restraint was what he was forced to cloak himself with but it was _control_ he craved to have in his hands.

If one were to carve Steve’s chest open, they’d be horrified at what they would find.

The stench of copper made stronger with rust admixed from the corroding manacles wrapped around an emaciated, slavering beast. A beast that hungered to be heard and be free. No longer held down by what was expected of it, at liberty to be what it wanted to be.

Free.

In control.

Upon receiving the gift of the serum, the beast had a taste of what it wanted. It was heard, it was in command and everyone followed. But, what it didn’t realize was no, it wasn’t _true_ freedom. The freedom it received was an illusion.

It was still chained and muzzled.

The only difference being, that it was with newly forged shackles in the guise of the red, white and blue.

* * *

Steve was on his bed, surrounded by paper and colored pencils drawing almost mindlessly. His hand was relying on muscle memory as he pondered on everything that was happening to him.

_I can do this all day._

Sarah Rogers imparted those words to her son and Steve did everything in his power to live by them. His dear mother had taught him to stand up to bullies and for what he believed in. That mantra had yet to steer him wrong.

They were part of the reason why he was slowly building his life back from the ashes of the war decades past and the pieces he had gathered from the arroyo created by the war that tore his new family apart.

He would do everything he could in his power to keep them all together. Nobody and nothing would be taking anything from him anymore. The pieces were slowly moving into their proper places and even God would not be able to help those who would dare interfere.

When he was younger, back in the day, people said it was admirable, albeit a little _unfortunate_ how skinny little Steve never backed down from any challenge or fight. Getting his ass handed to him in this alley or that, behind that building or dime store almost every single day because he had the courage to stand up and fight. Some called him _steadfast_ , whereas there were others who called him affectionately and complete with their head shaking—a dumb, bullheaded little shit, like Bucky.

Steve had to kick the rage that thrashed within him to heel at the thought of Bucky’s meddling earlier in the kitchen. His best friend must think he was being subtle, but Steve knew how he was when his interest was piqued, and it damn well was, much more than it had ever been.

And it… _displeased_ Steve very much.

Like his friend, Steve had fought for everything his entire life and he wasn’t planning on _losing_. I can do this all day, he thought.

Those were the words that led him to where he was now: in the future, taking back everything he had lost to time and seizing those he had been denied with that were _rightfully_ his.

As his pencil glided over the paper, Steve felt the warm, phantom touch of his father’s hand on his shoulder as well as the gentle caress of his mother’s hands carding through his hair. Steve couldn’t help but smile as he saw the face he so loved be immortalized on paper by his own hands.

_‘He’s beautiful, Steven. You sure know how to pick ‘em.’_

_‘After everything, you finally have someone of your own. You’re a man of worth now, son and he’s gonna be ecstatic to belong to someone like you.’_

“I know he will be.” Steve sighed happily as he continued to draw, thoughts swirling around in his head in the golden sepia tones of the good times and the poisoned grey of the bad.

* * *

“Pal, I ain’t against ya doin’ what’s right an’ all but, ya gotta admit that this is a bit too much. I mean, ya gotta let things go sometimes y’know. Stop hurting yourself.” His best friend grumbled, handing him a balled up towel filled with ice from the battered, secondhand refrigerator for the bruise that was almost devouring half of his face. The blond felt a prick of guilt when he realized that Bucky’s co-worker at the docks would ask why Bucky didn’t show up today.

Steve grimaced when the cold kissed his swollen cheek, “Buck, I can’t just let those jerks keep on bullyin’ the hell outta that kid. He was jus’ passing by. Those bastards were tryna steal his wallet.”

The taller man crossed his arms over his chest and gave Steve a flat stare for his earnest remark, making him fidget a little, “Thank ya lucky stars, you didn’t break your nose, Stevie. At least we don’t have ta worry about your asthma attacking or somethin’ while we try ta stop your nose from bleedin’. We don’ want another trip to the doctor’s now, do we?”

He couldn’t help but wince a little at the finality in his friend’s tone. The way Bucky was writing off the incident was a tad too blatant for Steve’s liking. Bucky was a good guy, Steve knew that. However, there were times that Bucky would be a bit too _indifferent_ about things, which sometimes grated on his nerves. Not to say that his best friend was a callous son of a bitch—it’s just that Steve sometimes wish Bucky wouldn’t weigh things too much.

There were times that the brunet seemed to rate things first using some unknown standard before he showed any interest in them. God, that sounded like he thought Bucky was an opportunist, maybe he had knocked his head around too much for today—there were three jerks that teamed up on him—he couldn’t find the right word to describe that weird _quirk_ of his best friend.

Although, there was a small part of him that wished he could be a bit like Bucky in that aspect. His best friend seemed to have that off switch for things that didn’t snag his attention and could look away if he they serve no purpose to him at all.

He was analytical and pragmatic.

Pragmatic.

Yes, that’s the word.

Bucky was too pragmatic at times.

And Steve wasn’t like that, could never be like that. He was the kind to hold on to his principles to the very end. If things were to go south, Steve would be the first one to jump in the fray to make sure it would be fixed. Anything to help the little guys.

“Stevie, y’know, I have your back and that I’d follow you ‘til the end of the line.” Bucky sighed, leaning back on his chair, “But, ya need to learn when to step back from things and stop obsessing too much. Ya ain’t gon’ be of any help to anyone if ya end up in a damn coffin one of these days because you’re too stubborn and dumb to know when to quit. Not everything will be fixed just ‘cause you decided to put your nose into it. Things don’t always go our way, no matter how much we try ta make it otherwise.”

He could only frown at Bucky’s remarks, there was something at the back of his mind that stirred from the brunet’s words.

Steve could follow his friend’s logic very well but he couldn’t possibly mean what he said right? He just had a lot of empathy for others, he cared a lot about people—especially those who were being oppressed. So what if he worried too much? Caring about others and helping them was something his mother told him was a good trait.

It didn’t mean he was obsessive and controlling or anything.

Steve was about to ask Bucky if he thought of it that way too, but his friend was by the sink, busy rinsing the blood soaked towel they used to wipe the blood from Steve’s busted lip and bleeding nose.

_‘Is that really what ya think, boy?’_

His eyes widened when he heard that voice. The one voice that had been plaguing Steve’s every waking moment, regardless of the fact that he and his Ma had buried the body years ago.

No.

He closed his eyes tightly, willing it to go back into the pit of Hell it belonged.

_‘You actually think ya worth something? All sick like a damn dog and can’t do nuthin’?_

The smell of bile and dime store liquor overwhelmed his senses going along with that rasp that had become more grizzled due to the continued abuse of the drink.

Joseph.

_Shut up_. He growled internally.

_‘Who’d wanna be saved by ya? A single breeze and you’ll go cold turkey. Bucky’s the smart one—he ain’t wastin’ time on tryna make people think he’s got a big cock, unlike ya, ya worthless runt.’_

_Don’t drag Bucky into this!_

_‘Yer the one dragging ‘im down, boy. He got lotsa things he could do be doin’ and he’s stuck takin’ care of ya. Always fighting and shoutin’. For what? ‘Cause ya gotta show ‘erbody that ya worth spit. Ya wanna act tough, big man? Then stop relying on ‘im.’_

_He’s here ‘cause he’s my friend._

_‘He’s there ‘cause ya keep stickin’ to him like a goddamn tick on a dog. He’s only feeling obligated to make sure ya still breathin’ ‘cause ya keep sayin’ he’s family.’_

_Shut up!_

The only response he got was the echoes of a rasped laughter and the even stronger odor of bile and cheap alcohol.

* * *

The moment that made Steve’s desire to protect people rose to its peak was when the second War broke out.

Either every able-bodied man was drafted or, for those who were ready to serve like Steve, enlisted.

He hated that he would probably be left in the country while his friends were being sent to war to fight. Steve hated feeling useless, so powerless that he wouldn’t be able to do anything to help those who needed protecting.

Thus, he decided to enlist and to the surprise of no one, Bucky didn’t.

He was a bit disappointed that Bucky preferred to stay instead of serving. Steve knew Bucky had his reasons for that but he had hoped his friend would see that they were going to fight for a good cause. They were in the middle of a late breakfast when a knock came and a man handed them their envelopes.

Steve felt like he was throwing up for whatever reason: excitement, anxiousness, whatever. The only thing he knew was that there was a buzzing energy that was making his innards go around in his stomach like acrobats on the trapeze.

This was it.

Steve would go out there and help their boys win the war.

He looked at Bucky, his best friend was paler than usual and was gripping his envelope with distinct trepidation.

They decided to open their letters at the same time, hands shaking for entirely different reasons. When he read the contents of the document, Steve felt the floor underneath his feet cave in.

He didn’t make the cut.

Why?

Steve glanced at Bucky and almost did a double take at the stony look on his face that would put a statue to shame.

"Buck?” he asked in a shaky exhale. Bucky wordlessly handed the letter to him. As he skimmed through the words, he was lost and flummoxed that he didn’t hear the strangled sound that left his body as though it was punched out of him.

Bucky got drafted and was being ordered to move out for training the day after tomorrow.

_‘See? What did I tell ya? No one’s gonna look for ya if they needed savin’._

_‘You’re nothing.’_

A burning sensation spread to his core and sharp claws sunk into his heart and the bright morning sun dulled as ashes covered his eyes.

* * *

It was the day of his mother’s funeral when Steve had seen a glimpse of truth in Joseph’s words. Bucky, with his hair slicked back with pomade and his suit all pressed and his shoes shiny, followed Steve to his home.

“We looked for you after. My folks wanted to give you a ride to the cemetery.”

“I know…I’m sorry. I just…kind of wanted to be alone.”

“How was it?”

“It was okay. She’s next to _Dad_.”

“I was gonna ask…”

“I know what you’re gonna say, Buck, I just…”

A cajoling grin came up on Bucky’s lips, “We can put the couch cushions on the floor like when we were kids. It’ll be fun. All you gotta do is shine my shoes…maybe take out the trash…C’mon.”

Steve turned away from Bucky to face the door to his apartment, a drunken snicker slithering into his consciousness at his friend’s words.

Joseph’s voice took on a mocking quality, _‘Shine his shoes and take out the trash, eh?’_

Enough.

Taking the proffered key from Bucky’s hand, he replied somberly, “Thank you, Buck, but I can get by on my own.”

Disappointment made its way to Bucky’s features before smoothening out into a sympathetic one, “The thing is, you don’t have to.” He gave Steve a pat on the shoulder, “I’m with you ‘til the end of the line, pal.”

_‘Stop hiding from the truth, son. It’s already staring ya in the face.’_

And for once, in that moment, Steve didn’t have the strength to prove his father false.

* * *

The war waged on and Bucky was going to be sent out to fight. With that knowledge firm in his mind, Steve did everything he could to get himself in the Army, going to every recruitment center he could find. He would not let the people down. Steve would get in and fight alongside his friend and they would win.

He enlisted.

Enlisted,

And enlisted,

And enlisted.

Even going so far as declare that he was from New Jersey.

What did he get in return?

4F,

After 4F,

After 4F,

After goddamn 4F.

Always with the same old lines of _‘I’m not sending you out there, son. You have a bright future ahead of you.’_ or _‘I’m not going to be responsible for killing such an upstanding young man.’_ and the most ridiculous one yet, _‘I’m saving your life.’_

Bullshit.

All of them.

Their boys were already dying, the weak were being preyed upon by a madman and his zealous followers. And they expected him to sit on his ass and do nothing? Why couldn’t they see that Steve only wanted to help? Whom were they saving really? They need people to fight. What were they thinking denying Steve entry into the troops? They wanted men willing to serve, protect and fight for what’s right.

Steve was _all of that and more_ , goddammit.

Standing up to protect the people was important but they don’t seem to be taking it seriously if they’re turning a blind eye to those who were more than ready to do so.

He decided to ease his frustrations by going to see the new cartoon in the theater only to have it stick to a different source when some heckling moron decided it was time to be a jerk.

Steve got pushed around and beaten for a while before he heard a familiar voice and the asshole he was fighting was dragged away from him.

‘Hey! Pick on someone your own size!”

The blond moved away from the dumpster and faced his friend who had picked up his coat, going through his multiple rejected applications to the Army.

“I had him on the ropes.” He muttered, wiping the sweat on his forehead.

Bucky only gave him a look that clearly said he believed otherwise and went back to reading Steve’s enlistment form, “How many times is this?” turning to the smaller man he let out an equal parts amused and incredulous huff, “Oh, you’re from Paramus now? You know it’s illegal to lie on the enlistment forms right?” The brunet looked back to the documents in his hand and sniffed a satirical, “And seriously, _Jersey_?”

Steve looked at Bucky wearing his snazzy new uniform and bit fiercely down on the rush of bitterness that built up in his throat.

Anyone who would have dared ask Steve Rogers about his insecurities would probably get a whiplash because he’d give them the whole list of what they’re asking for without hesitation.

Steve was always aware of areas where he was lacking, although he had never let them stop him. He knew he was quite short for his age, he knew he wasn’t blessed with an athletic body because of his laundry list of health problems, he knew he wasn’t going to be attractive to dames precisely because of the other reasons mentioned. He knew about and accepted them but, he wasn’t going to say they’re not bothering him at all.

He was just a little guy from Brooklyn.

Steve Rogers wasn’t one of those movie stars with lush dark hair, charming smile, suave manners and swagger that make people flock to them like iron filings to magnets.

He was only human, he was bound to feel bad about insecurities too. Especially when Joseph made him aware of them at an early age whenever he flew into rage brought upon by the intoxicating enchantment of the bottle. Their whole neighborhood knew to be an event that happened frequently in the Rogers’ household up until Joseph’s death.

Now, here was Bucky, his friend and brother—inadvertently or no—embodying all of what he lacked.

_‘Ain’t that a good friend, Steve? Showing ya what you should be?’_

Steve inhaled and forced himself to spit out the words, “You got your orders?”

Bucky singsonged his reply, grinning quite brightly, a far cry from the man who had looked like death has called upon him when he got his letter to join the troops, “The one-o-seventh. Sergeant James Barnes. Shipping out for England first thing tomorrow.”

“I should be going.”

“Come on, man. My last night! Gotta get you cleaned up.”

The breezy dropping of his declaration shined a light on the _insignificance_ of Steve’s plight and it tangled the arteries in the chest of the covetous _beast_ that Steve would see every time he looked in the mirror.

* * *

Steve tried to expunge the umbrage in his voice as he asked Bucky about what he told the girl about him, “What did you tell her about me?”

Bucky glanced at him conspiratorially as he waved back at Connie, “Only the good stuff.”

 _Only_ the good stuff, as if Steve as a whole would not be enough to be worth someone’s while.

‘ _Look at ‘im go. He got the uniform_ and _the dames too. And he’s such a good friend that he’s even sharing_ some _of his meal with you. Like a master feeding a dog scraps.’_

He coiled the chains tighter around the railing _fiend_ within and kept his mouth shut. Distracting himself with the bright lights in the glimpse of the future, he also silently licked his wounds at the rejection from the pretty dame that happily held onto his friend’s arm.

Awhile later, as he looked at the mirror with the propped soldier whose face was to be filled out by the viewer, he thought of what else he needed to do in order to achieve his goal.

“You’re really gonna do this again?” Bucky asked, irritation detectable despite the laissez-faire delivery.

_‘Aw, that’s just not fair now, is it? He gets all the glory while you get what? Nothing. As you always have. Tsk.’_

“Look, I know you don’t think I can do this.” Steve replied, all of his energy expended with the fact that they would be having this same stupid discussion yet again.

“This isn’t a back alley, Steve. It’s war!” there was anguish in Bucky’s voice that incensed the _miscreation_ that lived in Steve. He was treating Steve like a child or worse, an imbecile who didn’t know the value of life.

“I know it’s war. You don’t have to tell me.”

“Why are you so keen to fight? There are so many important jobs.”

He’s had enough of Bucky always thinking he was meant for less, “What am I gonna do? Collect scrap metal?”

“Yes!”

Sounds of metal chains snapping and deafening roars played like a broken, demented record in Steve’s head, “I’m _not_ gonna sit in a factory, Bucky.” He replied sharply in an almost undetectable growl. He’s not going to run away. He’s not weak. “Bucky, come on! There are men laying down their lives. I got no right to do any less than them. That’s what you don’t understand. This _isn’t_ about me.”

Blue gray eyes went cold for a moment that Steve thought it had been his imagination, “Right. Because you got nothing to prove.”

They may have ended the night on a somewhat positive note, but all Steve heard was the clanging of death tolls and the scratch of ashes on the ground in time with Bucky’s steps into the night.

* * *

He remembered Camp Lehigh, the bully Gilmore Hodge and his posse, the sharp bark of Sergeant Duffy’s orders, the curt dismissals from Colonel Phillips. He remembered Peggy, the rich mahogany of her hair and the brazen red of her lips.

_‘The serum amplifies everything that is inside. So, good becomes great. Bad becomes worse. This is why you were chosen. Because a strong man, who has known power all his life, will lose respect for that power. But a weak man knows the value of strength, and knows compassion.’_

He remembered every word that bore from the halting inflection of Erskine’s voice the night before he received the serum.

All of them were preserved in perfect clarity in his head, along with the bright, searing light that burned all of him inside the capsule that changed his life.

* * *

What people didn’t know about Captain America was that he was already drenched in blood even before the moment of his _birth._

Blood flowed when the Nazis sacked their own land and declared war on the world in their quest to prove that they were the superior race.

Blood flowed when Schmidt found out about Erskine’s formula and wanted it for his own.

Erskine’s blood dripped onto Steve’s fingers after Steve had emerged from the capsule possessing all the gift of the serum.

Heinz Krugler killed himself in the name of HYDRA to spite Steve when he realized he was no match to a newly made supersoldier.

Blood continued to flow as he sold war bonds as the USO’s dancing monkey.

Blood was the price to pay to create the peak of human perfection, for the weapon that was to be used to shed the blood of the fascist fanatics that wanted to take over the world.

That was one of the realities Steve had always pushed at the back of his mind. He wanted to fight the bullies, he wanted to be heard and in control of his life for once, he didn’t want the blood on his hands.

However, it seemed that blood was the chosen equivalent for what he yearned for.

Under the flag and the symbol, the _beast_ mournfully hid.

* * *

Beneath the face of Steve, the little guy and the strength of Captain America, lied the _aberration_ that crowed in triumph as Joseph finally conceded and saw his worth, when the men who would taunt and jeer at him turned around and followed his lead. Most importantly, Steve wasn’t pushed back into the shadows of Bucky’s glory anymore.

Steve recalled the way his blood quickened when they walked back into camp after he rescued Bucky and his men from HYDRA’s squalid grasp. Gone were the sneers in the troopers’ faces of him being a ‘chorus girl’ nor was he a ‘dancing monkey’ in Peggy’s eyes anymore.

_‘You’re meant for more than this.’_

And she was right.

Steve was worth more.

The exhilaration had rushed all the way down to his toes when even Bucky—finally—moved aside to let everyone see Steve for all his worth.

“Let’s hear it for Captain America!”

The moment that finally made it clear to Steve that he wasn’t _less_ anymore, however, was when Peggy came to look for him in the bar, looking so _beautiful_ in her red dress and her eyes only on him.

Only for him.

“I’m…I’m invisible.” Bucky bemoaned at Steve, remarkably shocked that for the first time, a woman didn’t even spare him a glance, despite his charm, “I’m turning into you. It’s like some horrible nightmare.”

Steve chuckled, elation seeping into his bones and satiated the _atrocity_ his person had given shelter to, “You’ll get over it.” he replied, clutching the now shorter man’s shoulder.

_‘A horrible nightmare, hmm? Jimmy’s not likin’ being ignored. Boy’s getting a taste of his medicine now, son.’_

_He sure is, Dad._

* * *

Amidst the heady mix of command and attention was the rancidity that came along with war. An amalgamation of scents that brought all the horrors of the day into even the farthest corners of their minds that the soldiers prayed kept them sane in the night. The rotting flesh of the dead—didn’t matter which side the cadaver came from. Was it from the Nazis? Civilians? Or The Commandos?—the rank of unwashed bodies that were ripe from sweat, dust and blood swirling in the fusty air along with smoke and fulminate; there was also a hint of the sharp smell of semen that permeate the air around the camp underneath of it all. Steve was certain he was the only one who noticed it, being the only one with enhanced senses.

Perhaps, it’s not only him who could tell.

He could cite all of the instances wherein Bucky’s gaze would stay a little longer on one of the men that Steve knew just had a tumble in the mud with another soldier. Or maybe, it was because Bucky did, sometimes, partake in that particular act too, thus he recognized the signs in other men.

Steve wasn’t a prude like most people think. He may not be as worldly as Bucky nor was he as popular, but he knew what sex was. He also knew there were men who had illicit relations with other men and only kept it under wraps—example being his friend, though Steve never asked and Bucky never told. Just because it wasn’t something people advertised, it didn’t mean it was only a figment of an overactive mind. Discretion was of utmost importance lest people be thrown behind bars and became a pariah.

They were at war.

If his fellow soldiers wanted to seek the nearest bit of warmth they could find to console themselves with, Steve would not judge. It wasn’t as if Steve hadn’t thought of it before out of curiosity, he had, he’d been around very good-looking men in Brooklyn. It’s just that he was a bit more on the ladies to actively seek out a man’s company. And if he were being honest, part of it was because he was looking for something special in a partner. The man had to be something else in order for Steve to pursue them. Whatever that something special was, Steve himself didn’t know.

Also, Peggy was waiting for him.

Steve would be stupid as to think he should spoil the second chance that she had given him. After all, she had forgiven him for his little indiscretion of being caught up in that blonde dame’s kiss back in the headquarters. He wouldn’t waste his time on a fling and temporary pleasure in the mud.

_‘You’re meant for more than this.’_

* * *

Losing Bucky was had been the biggest loss in Steve’s life, after his mother. He couldn’t bring himself to face the guys, he had tried to drown himself in alcohol like his father had done to lessen the pain whenever the man remembered all the friends he had lost in the first War. That was also the time Steve had cursed the serum in his veins, drinking bottle after bottle and downing more liquor like a goddamn fish and he still couldn’t erase the image of his friend—his brother—slipping from his grasp and falling in that ravine into death’s cold embrace.

The scream Bucky let out as he fell, echoing over and over in his head as that _repugnance_ screeched and shrieked at him for his failure. The bloodied gossamer that was Captain America already ruined by the lamenting beast’s claws, a single tear that would continue on to rupture thread by thread to expose the foulness beneath, never to return to the perfection it once was.

_‘You’re meant for more than this.’_

He was, but why wasn’t he able to do more?

His father’s shouts, his mother’s lullabies, Bucky’s screams, the beast’s howls were a revolting symphony threading through the tremors in Peggy’s voice as they talked about their dance whilst he struggled to control the Valkyrie.

“We might have to get a rain check on that dance.”

The cacophony of their screams, _its_ bellows and her sobs reached a crescendo and was the last thing he heard as the cold waters of the ocean had trickled into his lungs.

* * *

Waking up in that schmaltzy beige room, the incessant sense of displacement quickly sprang and had the _animal_ yowling danger, danger, danger…

His suspicions were confirmed when a black man all dressed in dark leather came in and tried to lull him into letting his guard down. Snapping at the man that he had already heard the game they were playing on the radio beside his bed, he leapt and pushed the man out of the way. Breaking out of that building, Steve was thrust into a bedlam of sounds, lights and signs that should not have been in an otherwise familiar street. People were at the same looking at him as though he had been out of the loony bin and avoiding him like they all saw the rabid _beast_ under his skin.

The man, Fury, had convinced him to listen to his explanations about how Steve got to the pandemonium called the _future_ only due to his muddled reasoning caused by reverberant screams of loss in head.

* * *

Coping with the passage of time had been a struggle for Steve, at this point, the eidetic memory the serum had given him was a blessing. He was able to learn and absorb decades of knowledge faster, which enabled him to keep up with the rest of the team, and most importantly, Tony.

Oh, God.

_Tony._

Amidst the convoluted mess that was the Avengers, Steve’s unstable feet on the ground and everything else in between, Tony Stark had, perplexingly, _unknowingly,_ tugged at Steve Rogers’ heartstrings. Even the loneliness that hung over Steve, the one that got stronger after finding out about Bucky, had been lessened by the man's presence.

Asking him when exactly it had happen would be a wasted effort because Steve himself wasn’t sure—right after New York? Not yet. But he was damn sure it was somewhere before Ultron. Like the others, Tony Stark had been the salt to Steve’s raw nerves when they met and Steve couldn’t bear to be in the same space as the genius.

Frankly, it was because he was exactly how Steve had envisioned people who had it all would be like—looks, smarts, power, undeniable charisma—and he had to be a disappointment in one way or another because it threw Steve off. He was all about cutting off his own nose just to spite people and for kicks. And for goodness' sake, as eccentric as Howard had been, he hadn’t thought that his friend would be raising such a brat.

With a tongue as sharp as his wit and lackadaisical, cavalier façade, Steve was more than ready to knock Tony down a peg or hundred—especially whenever the man went out of his way to make a fool out of Steve.

“You have your orders, you should follow them.”

“Following’s never really been my style.”

_Oh yeah._

Maybe that had been it.

He remembered that rather peculiar, not quite a whine, more like a groan from within him at that supercilious remark.

_‘He needs a firm hand. Bring him to task.’_

_‘Steven, you could guide him to be more respectful.’_

_Yes, I will definitely put this fancy_ bitch _on his knees._

* * *

A shudder of excitement skittered up and down his spine at the memory. Yes, that was when he realized Tony had only needed someone to guide him. Even better, Steve had found those psych evals from Nat, and he had to laugh. He was right. Tony truly needed someone to steer him to the right path.

Drugs, booze, lack of discipline and sleeping around. Basically, things that would not fly with Steve, not without consequences. However, by the time the Avengers had moved into the Tower, Steve found out that Tony was involved with his former assistant Pepper Potts—and good for him, because Steve also found that he had cleaned up his act.

Steve was glad, he truly was.

He only wanted to make sure the haughty little tramp would change his worrisome ways. What he had not expected was to realize there was also something _else_ in the mix. He was sure Fury choked somewhere out there when Steve had borrowed his catchphrase when the understanding kicked in all those years ago.

_Motherfucker_.

He was, apparently, lusting after Tony Stark too.

* * *

The awareness began mapping itself out in Steve’s head during one of the nights that the whole team was complete. It was completely innocent in the beginning, hell, the manner Steve found out about his situation was harmless even to an outsider’s point of view. They were gathered in the common room, having a couple of drinks and eating Bruce’s version of chicken 65 (up to this day, Steve still hadn’t known the reason why it was called as such nor what happened to chickens 1 to 64) and bread pakoda for snacks when it happened. Natasha was quietly chatting with Bruce, whereas Tony and Clint were goofing around while Thor was egging them on.

Clint had bet he could beat Tony in a game of cat’s cradle—of all things—and Tony, bless him, not willing to go down without a fight, accepted. Thor had provided them with some golden string that would seem to be infused with Asgardian magic. According to Thor, the string was taken from the fibers of a rope that was used to bind deceitful foes in battle. If the enemy had been defeated, the rope would be used to make sure they could not attempt any underhanded tricks because the rope would not be cut by any weapon nor burned. Only the person who used it would be able to remove it from the captive, thus the fate of the fallen lied in the victor’s hands.

Thrill-seekers that they were, the two rascals accepted the enchanted string and made a bet that the loser would be giving in to the winner’s demands.

“Fine, birdbrain. I’m just putting it out there that my company and my armors are not part of the deal.”

“Aw, c’mon, Stark. Think about it, _Barton Industries_. Now that sounds sexy.”

“Eat dirt, Barton.”

“Whatever, I’m gunning for the Spyder anyway.”

“Nope…nuh-uh.”

“What? Still no? _Wuss_.”

“That’s my baby. Find something else.”

“Screw it. I’ll figure out later.”

“That’s just stupid.”

“Eh, it’s part of the anticipation, man. Not knowing the stakes is better, makes the victory all the more sweeter.”

At this Tony laughed, “Sure, _Jethro_. Let’s do this.”

“Prepare to cry, Stark.”

“Tears of joy, birdass.”

After the negotiating their nonsensical rules, the pair slumped on the floor and began playing. Six minutes into their game, Steve noticed that Natasha and Bruce were also drawn in to watch beside him and Thor. The four of them decided to have a bet of their own, whom they think was going to win. He and Natasha bet on Clint while Thor and Bruce had placed their money on Tony. Steve would have bet on Tony too, however, there was a sly look in Natasha’s eyes that made him pause and he changed his mind.

The game was a close one until Tony made a mistake and got his hands bound together in a mess of golden enchanted string, worse, the string suddenly tightened—seemingly declaring him defeated on its own— and leaving Tony unable break free. After splitting their winnings with a cheering Clint who was regaling the other three with the _arduous_ quest to his triumph, Steve made his way over to a dismayed Tony who was still sitting on the floor.

“Cap! You have to help me! Clint won’t take this thing off! How the hell am I going to work like this? Dammit, I hate magic.” The brunet griped, firing his complaints like bullets from an uzi, as he tugged at his wrists.

Steve scrunched his nose and snickered, “I’d help you, Tony, but Thor said Clint’s the only one who can remove it.”

Tony only became more disgruntled at the response, “C’mon, Steve. Help me. Just yank it off, pretty sure you’re worthy and this thing probably likes worthy too. Like Thor’s hammer, yeah?”

“Tony, I’m not sure I can—“ he would make a liar out of himself if he said it didn’t warm him from the inside that Tony thinks he was worthy.

“Steve, _please_.”

Whatever Steve was going to say vaporized into nothingness at the words. He had become hyperaware of how Tony was looking up at him and Steve was looking down at Tony who was sitting at his feet. Worse, the genius had was asking, no, _begging,_ Steve. He was suddenly hit with the cognizance of how much _smaller_ Tony was, how easy it would be for Steve to move him as he pleased.

_‘And he wouldn’t be able to do anything about it.’_

The jangling of chains and a rumble made themselves known in his head. Steve could have sworn he _heard_ the rush of the blood flowing quickly in his veins in tune with that thumping heat that was moving low in his belly. 

“Steve?” Tony asked, head tilted a little, completely unaware of how it had bared more of his slender neck to Steve, “Are you okay, Cap?” he shifted around until he was on his knees to look closer at the blond and Steve felt liquid fire singe his nerves. Tony was oh, so oblivious as to how it looked to anyone else. The sheer trust or probably, that little bit of naïvete the man had left, making Tony blindly disregard the implications of their positions. If anything else, it only made the growls and the pawing of the _beast_ inside Steve all the more persistent.

 _‘Just look at how_ sweet _he’s being. All soft and on his knees.’_

Tony with those ridiculous doe eyes that should have belonged to a woman, along with his eyelashes that batted prettily when he blinks as if inviting Steve to throw him down on the floor and use him until they were both sated. And those damn lips that really just _asked_ to be stuffed full of co—

Fuck, Steve cursed internally, he was going to end up doing something he’ll regret. Every cell in his body was priming itself to pounce and claim.

And it was all _Tony’s_ fault.

Damn him.

Steve shook himself out of his stupor and took a step back from Tony, “I…uhm, sorry...I was trying to figure out how to help you, but yeah, Clint’s your only hope.” He smiled, hoping against all odds that Tony would not ask.

The brunet only grunted and tried to stand on his own, thankfully letting it go. Steve was right there when he stumbled a little. He had his arm around the smaller man’s waist and in that quick second, the genius’ hip brushed lightly against his crotch and Steve had to pray Tony didn’t notice anything.

“Thanks, Cap.” The billionaire grinned, apparently clueless to his inner turmoil, “Now I just need to call Birdbrain over to get this thing off me.”

Steve could only nod as his senses went under a different blitz—the spicy scent of expensive cologne with a tinge of grease and metal and that whiff of _something_ he couldn’t put his finger on that was really driving his senses on overload. “Great idea. Tell me tomorrow if he causes you more trouble. I’ll set him straight.” He replied, putting on his best bond-selling grin.

“Tomorrow?”

“Yeah…It’s a little late, I think I’ll hit the sack early.”

“Oh…” Steve’s fists clenched a little at the way Tony’s surprisingly small mouth shaped the word. Good Lord, he could see it now, how that mouth would _stretch_ around his—

“Yes. I’ll be going now.” Steve grinned, and then turned to the rest, “Good night, guys.”

“Night, Cap.”

“Good night, brother Steven.”

Steve quickly shut himself in the bathroom when he reached his room and turned the shower on full blast. Hoping that the sound of the water hitting the floor was drowning his groans as he furiously tugged on his cock, all the while picturing Tony with his hands bound behind his back, pupils blown wide and begging Steve to cum on his face.

* * *

He set aside his sketchbook when that particular memory flashed in his mind, wary of FRIDAY, Steve went to the closet to grab his towel and a change of clothes. He couldn’t have the, honestly, nosy AI witness him vigorously jacking off to her Boss.

That wouldn’t do.

As added precaution, Steve played one of Glen Miller’s records on the speakers in full volume before going to his en suite bathroom.

Locking the door, Steve shed his clothes and stepped into the spray of warm water, letting his mind wander back to that particular fantasy. It had always been a favorite.

With his hand lathered with soap, he let it slide down to his groin to grasp his already stiffening member and began to stroke. His mind’s eye wandering back to how the genius looked that night kneeling before Steve.

 _‘_ Steve _.’_

Steve _squeezed_ down a bit harder on his dick as his mind teased him with the memory of Tony breathing his name. Even better, the common room was replaced with Steve’s room and Tony was on the carpet by Steve’s bed.

On his knees, hands tied behind his back and his chest touching the floor, he was trying to look at Steve who was sitting on the bed in front of him—in his uniform complete with the cowl. The genius was as naked as the day he was born and pleading with Steve to be touched.

‘Touch me, Steve.’

‘I would, sweetheart. But you want to be good for me right?’

‘Yes…’ Tony moaned, still struggling to meet his eyes.

‘You know what I want, Tony.’ Steve crooned, reaching down to slip his fingers through the man’s hair and pulled it back, ‘You’re a _businessman_ , aren’t you sweetheart? You know all about fair trade.’

‘Touch…m—‘

‘Ah, ah, ah…you know the rules, Tony.’ Steve admonishes gently in contrast to tugging his lover’s hair harder that the brunet’s neck was bent in a harsh angle.

Tony was gasping for breath and his skin glistening with sweat, ‘ _P-please_ , touch me, Steve.’

‘Such a pretty bitch.’ He smiled and feeling pride well up in _him_ as his sweet, little bitch whimpered at the praise. Steve pulled Tony into his lap and ravaged the genius’ mouth with his, mapping out all the now familiar spots that make him moan with his tongue. His gloved hand wandered down to Tony’s own cock and ground the heel of his palm at the base, making Tony pull away from the kiss and keen. ‘Yeah, just like that, sweetheart.’

Letting the squirming man enjoy himself on his lap a little more, Steve peppered open-mouthed kisses on Tony’s neck. Sucking and adding more teeth the same time his hand would tighten on the smaller man’s cock. When his lover inevitably reached climax, Steve set him back on his knees and one-handedly opened his fly.

‘C’mere, sweetheart.’ he called, cupping Tony’s cheek with his cum smeared hand and guiding the man’s face to his groin. He shivered as the genius moaned when the leaking head of his cock pressed against Tony’s lips. Steve rubbed the bulbous head against those supple lips, coaxing Tony to take him in. However, Tony Stark would not have multitudes of lovers raving about his skills in bed if he wasn’t going to surprise Steve. Of course, he would, what with him being devoted to Steve. He was going to use all the skills he learned to please his master.

Steve nearly choked on his own spit when Tony’s tongue slipped out of that sweet mouth to swirl around his glans and dip into his leaking slit, the brunet groaning at the taste of pre-cum. The genius moved a little to balance himself as he licked Steve’s dick, running his tongue over the shaft and giving each one of Steve’s balls an almost mind-blowing suck. All had Steve burying a hand in his lover’s hair, even more when Tony’s wicked tongue dipped in the space between the foreskin and the glans.

‘Oh, God…sweetheart…that feels so _good_.’ Steve groaned, his hips straining not to shove himself into that eager mouth.

Evidently elated with being bestowed with more praise, Tony took Steve in. Moaning deep in his chest and letting the vibrations play over the thick cock in his mouth. Steve gasped and his other hand flew down to cup the back of his lover’s neck, giving a subtle push to let the man know that he wanted to be all the way down his throat.

And Tony, his sweet, _sweet_ Tony, obliged.

Steve took in the way the genius’ mouth yielded around his girth and let out another harsh groan, ‘You’re so beautiful, sweetheart. And that _mouth_ , Jesus, Mary and Joseph…oh, fuck.’

The man’s head bobbing back and forth over his dick and each time he went down he took more of Steve’s cock. When Steve felt Tony relax under his grip, with his cock all snug in that tight, talented throat, he went to fucking town. His hips began thrusting into that hot cavern with Tony making the experience all the better by giving an occasional moan that Steve could feel from his shaft down to the tips of his toes.

‘Yeah, that’s it…that’s a good bitch.’ He groaned, moving the hand cupping the back of the brunet’s neck to the front, feeling the way his cock slid in and out of Tony’s throat. ‘Sweetheart, you’re perfect. Goddamn perfect. My pretty, little bitch. Fuck, I love you so much.’

The brunet sang a series of full-throated—pun definitely intended—moans, cumming for the second time. Tony’s muscles tightened and held on to the head of Steve’s cock, coupled with the incredibly arousing sight of the genius cumming untouched, Steve _roared_ as he shot his load down that awaiting throat.

* * *

“TONY!”

Steve shouted as his hand twisted tightly around his shaft and the other squeezing intermittently at the head, spasms racked his frame as he rode out his orgasm. With another groan, Steve let his head fall against the wall and the water wash over and remove the seed from his hands. Staring at the water dragging traces of his pleasure into the drain, Steve was again confronted by the reality of not having Tony in his arms.

Tart, stinging bitterness welled in his gut at the thought. Yes, he and the others were back in the Compound after the mess that was the Civil War. That goddamn war had made all the work he had put into softening Tony go to waste. He barely had a grasp on the man because of Ultron—God, just thinking about Tony getting it into his head that creating Ultron was the best for everyone was making him so angry. Don’t even get him started on the fucking Accords.

Jesus, now he sounded like Bruce.

A beast masquerading as a man, Loki once said regarding to the good doctor. Steve barely held himself from flinching when he heard that. The difference however, was that Bruce had a literal monster born from rage within him yet everyone could see that he was still a good man. On the other hand, Steve had _beastly filth_ living within his soul and he was hiding it under the visage of a good man and the shining beacon of a hero.

Steve pushed the thought away as he turned the shower off, drying himself with the towel and putting his clothes on in quick, military successions. He placed his towel on the rack and his used clothes in the hamper in the corner.

It didn’t really matter now.

Tony may still be upset with Steve hiding the truth about his parents but he never truly hated Steve. He would know, Tony’s enemies all end up dead. In the midst of grief and betrayal, Tony still let them out of the bunker alive. What was that he once said to Steve before?

_“If you ask me which one is better, Captain America or Steve Rogers, what do you think my answer will be Cap?”_

_A corner of his mouth lifted at the peculiar question. This is one of the things he liked the most about Tony, he never failed to be intriguing, “I don’t know…but, I guess Captain America?”_

_Tony snorted and took a sip of his apple juice, “Nah, Steve Rogers is better.”_

_Steve was taken aback by the confession. Most people would have agreed with Steve in a heartbeat, “Why’s that?”_

_The genius turned to look at him with mock condescension, “Well, Rogers…look at it this way, Captain America only knows how to fight, lead the troops and look nice in his star-spangled outfit. Meanwhile, Steve Rogers can paint, helps little old ladies and their kittens cross the damn street, makes kickass breakfasts, brews amazing coffee and actually listens to insanely attractive geniuses who blather on about things he don’t fully understand.”_

_Steve then let out a snort himself, “Did you just call yourself insanely attractive, Stark?”_

_“No, I didn’t. But you, apparently, think so, otherwise you wouldn’t say that. Thanks, Cap!” Tony grinned and throwing in a cheeky wink. “I meant what I said about Steve Rogers, though. You’re a good guy, Steve.”_

Steve had to smile when he remembered how Tony had been so happy to pull one on him that time. Tony said that he thought Steve was better than Captain America. Basically, what happened in Siberia, Tony had denounced his friendship with his teammate, _Captain America._ As evidenced by him taking back the shield. Steve Rogers, however, still had the chance to bring everything back to the way it should be. And he would be starting that in the gala.

Speaking of the gala, it brought him back to his friend yet again. Bucky was definitely going to need some convincing that Tony wouldn’t be the one for him. Steve could see how smitten Bucky was getting.

_Tsk, that's just a big no, no for you, Buck._

He supposed it couldn’t be helped that Bucky would want to take Tony out for a spin. His friend always did like the mouthy, pretty ones and add in the fact that his bitch was quite a playful little floozy.

Be that as it may, none would come out of it. Bucky probably thought he was being _cute_ with insisting he also be with them in the gala and all the interruptions he’s doing, but Steve’s going to put a stop to all of that.

A territorial growl echoed in his head as his lips unknowingly peeled back in a snarl.

Howard was one of the two people who turned Steve into the best version of himself.

Howard spent years trying to find him and raised his own son to be enamored with Steve.

Howard was Tony’s father.

Howard practically made Tony for Steve.

He already lost everything back in the war and in the ice. Now, he was taking them all back and that includes what was _by all rights_ , his.

Not even Bucky would get in the way of that. He had fought for his friend, his brother, because it was the right thing to do. And he was another one of what Steve lost before. That didn't mean he gets to swipe what's meant for Steve out of his hands, though.

Huh, what did he know? Bucky was right.

It always ends in a fight.

And if Bucky wanted a fight?

Oh, goddamn sonofabitch, a fight he would get.

Steve would not back down and like he always said,

“I can do this all day.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what's better than a crazy super soldier going ass over teakettle for Tony Stark?  
> Why, **TWO** crazy super soldiers going ass over teakettle for Tony Stark, of course!
> 
> In one corner: A possessive super soldier who was already a predator before shit happened to him, whole-heartedly embracing his nature and actively hunts his prey (Bucky) and in the other, we have an obsessive super soldier who was a lamb turning into a beast but still pretending to be a lamb to lure the prey in (Steve).
> 
> **Which side are you on?**
> 
> P.S. I was under the impression that my other fic, The Iron "Princess" would be my darkest fic...apparently, I was wrong. haha... Oh dear, I think I'm going to Hell for all this craziness I write. Lmao.
> 
> Stay safe everyone, also your families. God Bless you all.


	5. Scenting another's prey, staking claim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony stared at his phone, silently willing the damn thing to make a sound and alert him to a call or a text. He kept that up for several minutes but the blasted thing was too fucking stubborn. He had tried calling a few times but it went straight to voicemail.  
> Giving up, he placed his arms on top of the table and buried his head underneath them.  
> “Stupid Barnes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's still alive! It has risen!  
> Yes, friends...this fic is still alive.
> 
> Hey, everyone!  
> So at long last, we finally have an update.  
> I'd like to thank you for your patience and continued support for this story.
> 
> As always, all mistakes are mine. No beta.

In all honesty, Tony would rather not go to the gala at all. He would much prefer to finish that R&D presentation he needed to present to the board in the week after the next.

Dearest Thor.

Tony Stark _wanting_ to sit down and work on a report weeks before the scheduled meeting with the Stark Industries board?

Pepper would be proud.

On second thought, she would probably worry and ask him if he was coming down with a flu or something. Then, Rhodey would be on her heels, claiming they’ve officially stepped into the Twilight Zone, worse ask if he was dying again.

All stupid jokes aside, he just didn’t think he could handle being close proximity with the Brooklyn boys the whole night. Tony couldn’t stand Rogers for obvious reasons and Barnes…well, for the _other_ set of obvious reasons. He almost wanted to eat his own words about the gala not being problem and kick Barnes in the nuts when what would most likely happen tonight hit him like a ton of bricks when they got dismissed from the team meeting that occurred after his breakfast with the super soldiers.

_It was going to be a fucking circus and he’d have to endure Rogers’ presence the entire time._

Seeing as it was going to be a show of unity between the two factions of the Avengers, between him and Rogers specifically, Tony would be practically glued to the blond all night. He was essentially Rogers’ arm candy for the event, goddammit. They would go around the ballroom attached to the hip while shaking hands, laughing at a dumb joke here and there made by someone from the brass or another. He and Rogers would be smiling the whole night under everyone’s scrutiny until their facial muscles were shot to kingdom come that they’d end up resembling an even more deranged version of the Teletubbies.

Damn it all.

* * *

All of the things that Barnes said— _demanded_ —had received a go signal from Rhodey. He would go to the gala with him, Rhodey and Rogers. Romanoff and Wilson would be tagging along as well. The announcement pissed off both Barton and Maximoff, who felt they were being deliberately left out. It was glorious how Rhodey had casually crushed their protests by pointing out that this was not just a charity event but a PR stunt as well. Barton was known to be retired when the Accords happened. He didn’t even know much about the Accords until Rogers invited him to his side. Therefore, the archer was mostly recognized as against it despite signing the revised version later after he got his pardon. Maximoff was mostly recognized as anti-Accords as well, also it was a gala for war vets and she, like Barton, wasn’t a soldier.

“If this is in support of the Accords, they should come along too.” Rogers offered in their defense. “Attending would mean they had accepted it and they’re willing to work with it too, Colonel.”

Tony hated to admit it but he does have a point. The genius also had a weird thought that the blond’s protest had nothing to do with being fair to Maximoff and Barton at all, but more about the fact that if Barnes was able to push for changes in the attendance, then so could he. Like a super soldier edition of ‘everything you can do, I can do better’ which was both annoying and sad, to say the least.

“I understand what you’re saying.” Rhodey said calmly. Tony noted that his best friend had pointedly left out Rogers’ rank. The dig was negligible if one didn’t know Rhodey well enough. Although, Rogers had caught it if the slight tic in his jaw was to be considered. “I do agree with you. Be that as it may, I have to say it again, this is also for PR. Ambassadors, particularly Germany, Sokovia and Nigeria are said to be attending. We all know how US is still working to soothe those feathers.”

There was a collective grimace from all the occupants of the room. Those countries were quite vicious in their criticism of the Avengers, especially the latter two—well, only _one_ Avenger, Tony added mentally. No elaboration was needed as to why Maximoff had to stay behind. He had been asked to join meetings with the two countries before and the mere mention of the red witch made the representatives apoplectic. Bringing her to the gala would be courting disaster, something the government couldn’t afford.

Rogers, still wincing at the reminder, wasn’t about to give up however, “And Clint? He should be fine. He had no issues with Nigeria and Sokovia as far as we know.”

Tony wanted the ground to swallow him whole when Rogers got to the end of that statement. _Trust Rogers to think that way._

No issues with Nigeria and Sokovia?

Nigeria, directly, maybe there’s none.

But, _Sokovia_?

_Really?_

Barton was an Avenger. The Avengers as a whole have issues with a lot of countries. The only reason Barton and Maximoff were being singled out this time was because what the press releases needed right now were the key players regarding the Accords. One could argue about Wilson that if it really were key players needed, then why would he be included? To answer, the man was working alongside Rogers in search for Barnes for a long time that he was most likely synonymous to being Captain America’s right hand man. He was the first one to lend Rogers a hand when the order to capture Barnes in Romania came out. The airman showing support for the Accords alongside both super soldiers was also a good way for the military to look good. Apart from that, Vision and Lang were left as well in case there was a sudden call for a mission, which meant there was a lineup of Avengers that could respond immediately should the need arise.

“Barton entered Germany illegally for that fight in Leipzig. Not only that, he had smuggled Maximoff and Lang into the country too. They’re still looking for ways on how they can pin him down for that.” Rhodey’s ancillary response slammed the bars on the rest of Rogers’ dissent. "That also means Lang can't go either." he then turned to the ex-con. "Sorry, Lang."

"Eh, it's okay, Colonel. I kinda knew that already." Lang droned, waving his hand dismissively. "It's not my scene, anyway."

"Not your scene?" Wilson scoffed, "What are you, _thirteen?"_

Tony grinned at the remark but tuned out the rest of the banter after that.

Ta-da, as mentioned, the US can’t afford to tread on any more toes. Plus, with the aforementioned countries still on the lookout for something to tear into, the team couldn’t exactly bring two possible juicy chunks out in the open.

The archer swore under his breath the same time Rogers pinched his nose bridge in irritation upon realizing that there were more matters involved than just attending a soiree organized by and for war veterans.

Tony felt a bit bitchy with the vindictive thrill that came over him. Seeing even a little of what he had protected the team from at the very beginning surely had ripped the blinders off Rogers’ eyes. Perhaps that would get the blond to stop being painfully naïve and viewing the world in black and white.

A punch to the moon but Tony hoped for the sake of everyone that it was going to be a start.

A poignant silence reigned over them before the witch laid out a new argument.

“Natasha’s not a soldier too.” Maximoff stated petulantly, to which the woman in question only raised a brow, “why is _she_ going?”

Rhodey was about to answer when Barnes butted in, “Pipe down. Weren’t you listening? It’s part of PR. Natalia’s one of the first to sign the Accords, she was there when it was ratified in Vienna. The gala’s gonna be full of people who supported the Accords, her presence isn’t going to be out of the ordinary.”

“She sided with us.” The witch retorted, not backing down and Tony wanted to bang his head on the table. She really had learned quite a lot in the School of _Rogersism_. Good thing Tony was sitting at the far end, near Rhodey. Vision and Lang were sitting between him and Barton, so he didn’t have to be so close to her.

Barnes shared his sentiments because he leveled the young woman with a look that was simultaneously pitying, annoyed and patronizing, “Listen, _Wanda_ …” he cooed her name with nauseating sweetness that reminded Tony of fruits close to rot, “It was T’challa who reported that to the Council. The Accords was barely in effect when it happened, if it got out that one of its first supporters, not just an enhanced but an _Avenger,_ let Steve and I escape, what do you think will happen?” When Maximoff only glared at him defiantly, he continued, “The public will question the efficacy of not only the Accords itself but the UN Council. They decided to keep what Natalia did in house to avoid that and let the public draw conclusions as to why she ran off, letting them believe that she asked Steve for help with some other problem she encountered on a separate mission that’s why she was with us. To make it simple, the people who will be at the gala don’t actually have clue that Natalia actually went against the Accords back at Leipzig.”

Barton, never really one to sit out people bashing his little witch, snapped at Barnes, “If we’re recognized as against the Accords, then why are _you_ going then?”

Barnes briefly closed his eyes as though asking some cosmic being to give him strength, before drawling, “Does _Sergeant_ James Buchanan Barnes ring any bells? Howling Commandos? World War II? Longest prisoner of war?” he then gestured to Wilson who was beside him, “Sam’s a soldier too, by the way. Did tours in the Middle East before working at the VA…not that you asked.”

The archer, who sat beside the red witch across the table from Barnes, almost lunged at the brunet super soldier while snarling, “You fucking pri—“

“Clint.” Rogers cut in with a sharp tone, “Don’t.” he then turned to Barnes who was sitting next to him, “Buck, stop trying to pick a fight with Clint and Wanda.”

Tony’s coffee nearly went into the wrong pipe when Barnes turned to Rogers with wide eyes like a fucking baby deer and spoke.

“But Stevie…I wasn’t picking a fight with them. I’m just explaining why Natalia and I are going with you. Is that really so bad? I didn’t do anything wrong.”

Rhodey covered his laugh with a cough when he realized the same time as Tony that Barnes was imitating the coaxing speech pattern Maximoff liked to use whenever she was running to Rogers and Barton to help her.

“This is so weird.” Lang muttered, looking at Barnes a tad queasily.

“Tell me about it.” Wilson, who sat in front of him, whispered back, crossing his arms.

“Buck, knock it off.” Rogers said brusquely, frowning at him, “You already made your point. You’re acting like a jerk.”

Barnes’ eyes narrowed a little before he shrugged and reclined back into his seat, “Sure. Whatever ya say, Stevie.”

Tony’s eyes briefly met Romanoff’s across the table in askance which she answered with her own dainty shrug. Rogers was being outright testy with Barnes and that was tantamount to impossible. There was an odd tension between them that was slowly rising to the surface, making the rest of them notice. A quick glance around told Tony the same thing, the team knew something was going on with the super soldiers. His eyes caught Barnes’ from the other side of the table and the man had only answered with an imperceptible shake of his head.

Tony frowned into his mug. Did he miss something when he had breakfast with those two? Not that he was really concerned or anything, it was just unusual.

As soon as the thought came into his mind, he felt eyes on him.

He looked up and found Rogers looking at him intensely. The blond’s jaw was clenched tightly that Tony feared his teeth would crumble and his eyes hard as stone. Tony couldn’t help but blink at the man in confusion.

_What’s his problem?_

Rogers blinked back at him as though realizing he was boring holes into Tony’s skull and his face melted to the ‘oh, gee wow warm apple pie’ smile he gave the billionaire all the time back in the day, the one that went into overdrive ever since coming back to the US after getting pardoned.

Tony rolled his eyes in response. No point in giving the ‘we’re all friends here’ bullshit smile if one was already caught dishing out major stink eye beforehand. He turned to Rhodey who was talking to the others and was giving reminders about some reports the team needed to finish before the weekend.

“Do we have anything else on the menu, Honeybear?” he diverted his attention to his friend and pretending that he didn’t catch the frown that came over Rogers at his dismissal.

Rhodey’s palms met each other in a single clap and he rose from his seat. Tony smiled as his Honeybear’s braces were now working with the man’s innate grace, “Nothing. I only need to send a message to Hope. She has a meeting at Pym Tech that’s why she’s not here today.” He answered then turned to the rest, “If you all don’t have any more questions, adjourned.”

“It’s not fair.” Maximoff mumbled before pushing her seat back, making it screech against the tiled floor. That gave everyone a pause, which was obviously the woman’s intention in the first place. Tony would have wept in admiration of Rhodey’s professionalism. He would have put the witch on blast for the attitude if she were one of his employees but Rhodey merely asked the woman about what she meant by that statement.

“Nothing, Colonel.” She replied sweetly, looking for all the world like she didn’t know what Rhodey was asking about. Tony saw the vein that popped on his Sourpatch’s forehead despite the man’s calm visage. He almost felt sorry for the witch. Rhodey was never one to humiliate someone in front of others for shits and giggles, though he knew his best friend was not at the very least shy about reprimanding subordinates in a manner that would make the poor bastards unable to control a wince whenever Colonel James Rupert Rhodes was mentioned afterwards.

Luckily, Vision, Thor bless him, stepped in before everything went further south. Rhodey took the cue and let the younger man talk to the witch.

“Er…uh, Wanda, I’m wondering…” Vision hesitated, eyes skimming over everyone’s faces. 

Tony felt his skin crawl with how fast Maximoff fell back into her doe-eyed ingénue act when the synthezoid called out to her.

“Yes, Viz?” she smiled invitingly with her hand moving to wrap around Vision’s wrist. Tony looked away at that point.

He had never been one to judge when it came to whom people get things on with—case in point: _Barnes_ —however there was something about how Maximoff acted around Vision that worried him. Yes, Vision looked like an adult. He had immense amount of knowledge but the reality was that he was only a few years old. He wasn’t mature in the ways most of the team were and he didn’t have much knowledge in the nuances of human interactions despite having JARVIS’ memories. There was controlling possessiveness in the witch that reminded Tony of one of his former flames: Sunset Bain.

Everyone and their something-removed cousins knew how _well_ that part of his life turned out, he thought bitterly.

Tony and Rhodey had tried to talk to Vision about Maximoff ‘s behavior but Vision just smiled and thanked them for their concerns, saying he knew what he was doing. They had no choice but to drop the issue and trust the younger man after that.

Vision looked quite uncomfortable with everyone close around them thus the rest of the team had taken to pretending they weren’t listening by having their own conversation with the person next to them. It wasn’t lost on Vision though. In fact, it seemed to help his confidence that the others averted their eyes, “I’m wondering…i-if you would be so kind as to join me…to visit a bookstore in town this weekend?”

The subtle buzzing in the conference room stopped as everyone took in Vision’s words.

They were taken aback by the sudden boldness from the synthezoid, to actually ask the witch out on what basically amounted to a date—and in front of the whole team at that?

Nevertheless, no one was more surprised than Maximoff herself who was incandescent with delight that she was beaming much brighter than newly bought Christmas lights on the first evening of November.

Maximoff blushed prettily and met Vision’s eyes with hers from underneath her lashes, “I-I…that’s very sweet of you, Viz. I’ll be happy to join you.”

Vision gave her a small grin and nodded, “Excellent. I’ll, uh…see you later, Wanda. I need to check on some of my new plants in the garden.” The synthezoid phased through the walls in a hasty retreat before any of them could say anything else.

A beat later, everyone scuttled out of the conference room like nothing happened. Tony was one of the few who immediately went for the door after Vision— _escaped_ —left. Behind him, he could hear the way Maximoff was prattling to Rogers and Barton. About how excited she was for the weekend, her objections about the gala completely forgotten. He snuck a glance at them. Rogers was smiling at her like a benevolent father while suggesting Barton join her and Vision as a chaperone, much to the witch’s dismay. She pouted and huffed whilst Barton laughed with glee, agreeing with the super soldier.

Tony felt his stomach twist at the thought that Vision only asked the Maximoff out because he knew it would make Tony feel better not to hear any more snide comments from her and Barton. Or perhaps, Tony was just being his narcissistic asshole self and he was making Vision’s motivations all about him when in reality, it could be because the synthezoid still liked the witch. Either way, it made him feel like a douchebag.

Turning away from the trio, he went straight to the elevator, he still had some things to do down in the lab.

Had he looked back again, Tony would have noticed Rogers was ignoring Maximoff and Barton’s banter in favor of staring hungrily at him as he walked away.

* * *

Tony gave himself one last look in the mirror, after carefully tousling his hair this way and that, before going out to the common room to meet the others who were going to the gala with him. He donned a tailored silver gray suit with a blue silk tie and the sapphire blue cufflinks Pepper had given him on his birthday five years ago. Tony raised a brow when he found Romanoff there already with Wilson and Rhodey.

The redhead was wearing a beautiful, form fitting black evening gown with asymmetrical neckline that had what looked like chains of small, red spider lilies embroidered on the shoulder, which continued down her back and to one of her hips.

Spider lilies.

_A little too on the nose there, Natashalie._

Romanoff, as per usual, had caught on to his amusement.

“Nothing wrong with a little self-love, Tony.” She commented, confirming his thoughts about the flowers on her dress, her ruby red lips quirking into a smirk.

“Of course. Just didn’t think you’d go for a dress like that. Stands out quite a bit.” He replied. It was true, Romanoff tend to favor dresses that would look good on her but guaranteed to make her blend in the crowd.

Self-love his ass.

The last time he checked the Rogues had kittens in time with calling him a selfish, egoistical bastard whenever he decided to indulge in a little self-love by getting the fuck away from them and their endless complaints every once in a while. Deciding not to waste time on that frankly irksome thought, he poured his attention on the other men with them.

Wilson was a handsome sight whilst wearing his uniform and being back in it somewhat made him seem more thoughtful than he would usually be. Rhodey, like always, cut an intimidating figure in his own that Tony wanted to tease him by swooning into his arms like a Southern belle. He supposed the soldiers were going to wear their uniforms even though the three of them were no longer in active duty.

There's four of them here, that would mean they were only waiting for the super soldiers.

_Huh._

To think that they all would be done with primping way before those two showed up.

As if summoned by his thoughts, Rogers showed up in the entryway wearing his own uniform. The man was a vision and looking every inch a Greek god. His uniform made that damnable shoulder to waist ratio standout even more, at the same time drawing attention to the flex of his mile long legs.

Tony had no delusions that people would not be flocking to the _good_ Captain’s space the entire evening.

He grimaced inwardly. He already knew Rogers would look amazing, he had to be blind not to see that. Still, it didn’t make him feel any better that he’d have to be beside the super soldier for the whole event, silently wallowing in self-pity and feeling inadequate. Like he didn’t get enough of that from Howard constantly comparing him to the guy.

“Good evening everyone.” Rogers greeted, smiling warmly as he walked closer to them, “You look absolutely fantastic.” His eyes quickly roamed over Tony’s form then flicked over to the others. The brunet almost raised a brow at that but decided not to comment. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say Rogers meant to direct the praise to him.

Yeah, right.

Rhodey acknowledged the compliment with a lukewarm expression of gratitude and Romanoff with a gracious smile whereas Wilson snarked, “You’re really pushing it with the compliment when you’re gonna show up looking like _that_.”

Oh, good. Tony thought.

At least he had someone who could commiserate. Just this once, thanks Wilson.

Rogers chuckled good-naturedly and told the other man that he did his uniform justice.

“Justice? The hell? Damn, I think I just saw the flag waving before my eyes.” Wilson snorted that drew a laugh from both Rhodey and Romanoff, which in turn brought a small blush on the blond’s cheeks.

The genius would have said something to the same effect if not for the echoing of measured footsteps that pulled Tony’s attention away from the rest. Turning to the entryway, his breath got stuck in his throat when he saw whom the footsteps belonged to.

_Barnes._

If Rogers looked like a god, all Tony could think of was, well, fuck gods. He had never believed in them despite being friends with Thor and meeting his batshit crazy brother, Loki.

Tony blue-screened as the man moved closer to them, a smirk firmly placed on his full wide mouth as he passed by. He hadn’t seen head nor hide of the taller brunet for hours, even FRIDAY didn’t tell him where her new favorite person run off to for the rest of the day when he asked. Apparently it was in preparation for _this_.

Barnes, unlike the other soldiers, wasn’t wearing his uniform. There was a niggling voice at the back of Tony’s head that said that it could prove to be controversial because some might find the super soldier disrespectful for not wearing his uniform, but he paid it no mind. Barnes could be controversial all he liked as long as he liked for all Tony cared.

He was wearing an all-black tailored suit that accentuated his form, from his strong shoulders to his deliciously muscled arms to his trim hips. The black slacks emphasized his powerful thighs, long legs and that _amazing_ ass. His hair, no longer that shaggy style he’d been sporting since HYDRA, was cut closer to the one he used to have back in the 40’s though shorter up top and much more modern. It highlighted the sharpness of his jawline that was dusted with tasteful stubble and the angle of his cheekbones that Tony believed called out to him so he could cut himself on them.

Long story short, Barnes looked like the most wicked of _sins_ ready to lure people into the depths of indulgent depravity.

No need to tempt the willing, Tony mused. He bit the inside of his cheek at how wanton he was being and was reminded of how his last conversation with the man went. They still had a lot to talk about before any _luring_ happened _._

_A bit hopeful there aren't you, Stark? Not like things happen as smoothly as you think they would._

He hid a grimace, better not be too confident or he'd jinx it. Tony then snapped back to reality when Wilson whistled appreciatively at the focal point of his wayward thoughts.

“Whew, I’ll be damned. You sure pulled all the stops, didn’t you? Finally got rid of the homeless assassin look.”

Barnes huffed a laugh and rolled his eyes, “’Heard it’s a fancy shindig. Can’t exactly show up looking sloppy. I don’t have my uniform so I had to go with this.”

“Good choice on the suit.” Romanoff joined in after giving Barnes a once over.

“I’d say the same about your dress.” The super soldier replied, “I can’t take all the credit though. FRIDAY’s the one who chose it.”

“FRIDAY?” Rhodey frowned, looking at Barnes like he was a puzzle to be solved then his eyes sought out Tony. The genius met that confused look with what he hoped was a perplexed one as well so the older man wouldn’t suspect a thing. They both knew the AI wouldn’t just be helping someone unless they were close to the genius. FRIDAY choosing to help Barnes out, notably with something as personal as picking out a suit for a party would mean the latter somehow got into Tony’s good graces. Tony silently wished Rhodey wouldn’t figure out just how _good_ Barnes really got in his graces.

“She helped you out?” Rogers said with a weirdly wan smile. Tony didn’t realize that the man’s eyes were on him until he spoke to his best friend, “You look good, Buck.”

“Thanks.” Barnes said in return. Then a smile sharper than a sword fresh from the forge ran counter to the silkiness of the brunet super soldier’s additional response, “Felt like I need to give you a run for your money, pal.”

* * *

Just as predicted, the moment they had entered the venue, Tony was already pushed to Rogers’ side by the paparazzi hungry for that money shot. That inevitably lead to the others pairing up as well, Romanoff with Wilson and to Tony’s surprise, Rhodey picked Barnes.

Oh, boy.

Rhodey was determined to get answers if his willingness to be around Barnes for a long time was any indication. The super soldier, however, looked like he didn’t already have one foot placed in his own grave with how he had accepted the set-up with no complaint. Sure, Barnes could beat Rhodey just fine if things went awry, especially since Honeybear’s out of the suit, though that doesn’t mean Rhodey would go down easily. The man was a freaking rocket scientist, he was as resourceful as Tony was and well trained in combat. There was no way Barnes would get out of that fight unscathed.

When they had finished discussing who they would rub elbows with first, they all set out to schmooze the shit out of everyone in the venue.

* * *

Tony wanted to punch the blond beside him when they went on to greet the organizers. Rogers was leading him by the elbow like how one would escort a goddamn date. He inconspicuously pulled his arm out of the soldier’s grasp when they reached the organizers. Not to be deterred, the blond’s arm smoothly moved around Tony’s waist. The genius stiffened when he felt Rogers’ large hand on his back, a tad lower than what’s proper but not enough for people to pay much attention to. He straightened his back for Rogers to get a hint but the blond kept his hand in place and rubbed small circles on the billionaire’s back in attempt to soothe him while still chatting up their hosts.

Turning to Rogers as soon as they got away from the earshot of the fifth group of people that wanted to talk to them, the engineer gritted under his breath,

“Rogers.”

The man smiled at him as he hummed in reply, “Yeah?”

“Let. Go.”

Rogers’ grin faltered a little before he whispered back, “Let’s not fight, Tony. We don’t want to cause a scene.”

He felt the thumping of a vein on his temple at the answer, “I’m not trying to cause a scene. I can walk Rogers, there’s no need for you to have a hand on me. We’re already side by side, I don’t have to be glued to you to show people we’re not fighting.”

The blond’s grin disappeared but his tone and expression became more coaxing, “You’re always leaning on me when we go around these events, Tony. Most of the guests here have seen that before. If we’re really here to show them that we’re back to the way things were, this is a good start.”

Tony leaned away, as much as the damn arm around his waist would allow, from the man, “That was _before_ , Rogers. I’m not comfortable with your hand on me. Let go.”

“Tony…”

“If you want me to be frank, okay, get your hand off me because I don’t want you to touch me.”

This time, it was Rogers who stiffened at his response. Albeit instead of removing the offending limb, Tony felt the blond’s fingers tighten—almost dig—into his side. He tried to stifle a hiss when the man had seemingly forgotten his strength. The sound shook Rogers out of whatever trance he was in and he quickly let go, stepping back.

“Hey, watch it.” A man who stumbled straight into Rogers’ back snapped.

The soldier nimbly moved aside to let the man through, “I’m so sorry, Sir.” He then bent down to pick a pack of cigarettes that the man dropped on the floor. The man blinked looking at them, realizing that it was indeed Captain America and Iron Man he had run into.

“Ah, no. No need, Captain. I’m the one who’s sorry. I didn’t realize you were there. Same goes for you, Mr. Stark. Sorry to interrupt.” The man flew in a quick litany of platitudes as he took the pack from Rogers. “Please, excuse me.”

“Of course.” Rogers replied while Tony nodded mutely at the man.

They waited until the man disappeared from sight then Tony got back to telling the super soldier off, “I don’t wanna keep reminding you Rogers, so I’ll say it again. Stop touching me.”

A crease formed between the smaller man’s brows as Rogers gave him a disturbingly flat, considering stare. He stared at Tony for a little longer that it unnerved the brunet. Before the billionaire could say anything, the man grabbed his wrist and walked purposely out of the ballroom.

“Rogers!” Tony hissed, trying to wrench his hand away. He tried to look back into the room in search for the others but Rogers only yanked him closer. He tried to keep his feet on the floor, hoping to use friction to his advantage to stop the blond though the effort proved worthless as the super soldier ignored him while almost hauling him to another hallway. The man looked around as they went down the hall, checking for stragglers hanging about. Finding none, he then pulled the genius into a nearby balcony overlooking the smoking area in the garden below.

“What is wrong with you?!” he barked, barely controlling his volume. He rubbed at his wrist. Rogers just about cut the circulation on Tony’s arm off with the unforgiving grip he had on it.

Rogers had his back on him, his hands on the balcony’s railing. Heaving a sigh, the blond faced him with arguably the most beseeching look Tony had ever seen on him that it took the brunet aback.

“Tony…”

“Don’t _Tony_ me, Rogers. You just said that we’re not going to cause a scene then you go off and drag me around like a dog on a leash?”

“I know, Tony…Sorry.” the taller man replied, gesticulating vaguely with his hands, “It’s just that…you, you’re not listening to me.”

Tony jerked back in disbelief, “What?”

Did the asshole really just say that?

Rogers, taking that as a sign to continue, resumed his asinine reasoning, “I already told you that we’re here to show everybody that we’re back to how it used to be. How are we going to do that if we act elsewise of how we used to?”

“And I told you that we don’t need to be draped over one another to do that.” Tony retorted, “You don’t exactly have a leg to stand on when I explicitly told you not to touch me and you act otherwise.”

A pained expression twisted the soldier’s features, “Tony, I don’t know why you’re acting like this. I mean, yes, we’re in a rough patch right now…but how are we going to get past this if you’re not letting me in?”

The brunet frowned, “What does that have to do with this?”

“Please, listen to me.” Rogers repeated imploringly, “You are lashing out because you’re upset. You’re still thinking that I’m your enemy. That’s not true, Tony. I’m not your enemy. I never was and never will be. I only want what’s the best for you, you know that.”

“You’re not making a lick of sense, Rogers.”

Rogers crossed the space between them to put his hands over Tony’s shoulders, “That’s what I’m saying. You’re confused and upset. You can’t see that I only want us to be good to one another, like before. _Together_ , remember?”

Tony brusquely shrugged Rogers’ hands off him and taking a step back, “You’re trying to incorporate something else into this. I only told you that I’m not comfortable with you touching me. Why is that so hard to understand?” he carped, still confused as to what the blond’s angle was.

“That’s the whole point, Tony. I'm being clear about the steps we can take to make things better, but you're adamant in putting ideas of me being your enemy in the middle of that and us.” The taller man said in frustration, like Tony was being difficult on purpose, “I only wanted to be back to how we were before. To how good and comfortable we were with each other, but you keep seeing an enemy when there’s none. That’s why you’re acting like this. I don’t want to fight, Tony. ”

Tony could only shake his head in bemusement. He would have a better luck making a brick wall listen to him at this point.

“You keep saying to listen to you, why don’t you try listening to me for once, Rogers?” he replied scathingly, his own frustration bleeding through, “Stop with going around in circles. It’s not that hard to get. I’m not comfortable with you touching me, period.”

“That’s because you’re telling yourself that I’m going to hurt you!” Rogers grounded out, “Jesus, Tony. I keep telling you that I don’t want to fight but you keep on pushing and acting out. _What do you want me to do_?” the blond sounded almost in tears as he asked.

“If you don’t want to fight then get your fingers out of your damn ears, stop going lalala and listen to what I’m saying!” Tony snapped, refraining from adding a colorful insult at the end, “The only thing you need to do right now is stop putting your hands on me.”

“If I do that you’re going to continue thinking I’m going to hurt you. I still remember what you said about people handing you things, Tony. This is the same.”

“So that’s what this is? Some sort of exposure therapy? What happens after, huh? We walk hand in hand into the sunset?”

“Tony, stop making a joke out of this. I just—“Rogers mumbled the rest that Tony couldn’t comprehend, “I will never hurt you, Tony.”

In any other situation, Tony wouldn’t have said anything of the sort but Rogers was really testing his patience, “Yet, you’re fine beating me down and leaving me to die in a wasteland.”

Rogers gasped like he was punched in the gut, “Tony, I—“ his hands came up to, presumably, grab hold of Tony again. However, the genius abruptly sidestepped out of his reach, closer to the balcony. Be that as it may, because Tony always did have such rotten luck, he slipped on some pebble that came from god knew where and fell.

At least, he would have if not for Rogers’ ridiculous reflexes.

The super soldier was in front of him in a flash, wrapping an arm around him before he fell to the floor. The thing was, Rogers overshot and ended up caging the genius against the railing with his lips brushing against the smaller man’s.

Tony inhaled sharply at the contact, he was trapped between Rogers and the ground below. He froze as panic clawed at him when he felt the light pressure of the blond’s lips pressing a little more firmly against his.

_No,no,no,no_ …his mind chanted when he heard the distinct click of a shutter nearby.

He quickly turned away from Rogers and cursed. Tony pushed at the blond’s chest with both hands, thankfully this time, the blond got a clue. 

“Tony?”

“Shit!” the genius bit out, dragging a hand over his face.

“What’s wrong?”

“Someone saw us and took a picture, I heard a camera.”

Tony furiously wiped his lips with the back of his hand, not caring one whit for the wounded puppy vibes the blond was sending his way. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“I was worried you’d hurt yourself.”

“Someone saw!”

Rogers scanned the area below them, “There’s no one here, Tony. Just us. I didn’t hear any camera.”

“There was—“

“Tony. I’m the one with better hearing between the two of us. I can still hear the music from the ballroom out here. Let me assure you, I didn’t hear someone taking a picture. That’s why I lead us here so we can have privacy.”

“I know what I heard, Rogers.”

“Look, calm down. I’m just saying that if you heard something, I would have heard it too.”

“Oh? I dunno, Rogers…you seemed quite _distracted_.” Tony replied acridly. It was a nasty, cheap shot but to hell with it. He was pissed.

A blush crept on Rogers’ cheeks, making him look endearingly boyish, “It was an accident, Tony.”

If looks could kill, Rogers would be a skewered by a million, fire-hot daggers on the spot. The first contact maybe, but the next few seconds? A voice in his mind was screaming at him to punch the blond in the nuts, “ _Accident_ or no, it’s not going to happen ever again. Am I making myself clear?”

“Tony, I mean it.” The soldier suddenly intoned solemnly like he was taking an oath, the shy expression gone in a blink of an eye, “I didn’t hear anything, there’s no one here but us.”

In hindsight, the genius should have taken note of how Rogers had skirted around what he said but Tony was just too tired and he wanted the other man to be out of his sight already.

He mulled over what Rogers said, sighing, “Fine. Sure. Okay. Whatever you say, Captain. If there’s nothing else, I’m going back to the party.”

Rogers tried to grab a hold of his wrist yet again, “Tony, we still need to talk—“

He yanked his arm away, successfully this time, “There’s nothing else to talk about, Rogers.” Like hell they were going to talk about what happened just now.

“Tony, honey, please—“

“I found them, Colonel.”

* * *

Their heads snapped towards the entrance to the balcony and found Barnes leaning against the jamb. Without context, the taller brunet looked unobtrusive, like he was just observing two friends in the midst of a conversation. Nonetheless, Barnes was appraising them with a terribly blank look on his face that Tony had thrown out his earlier hopes of finally getting to sit down and talk with the super soldier about... _them--for_ the lack of a better word--later that night. Tony felt his throat constrict at the thought that the other super soldier saw what happened moments ago.

He couldn’t have.

Right?

“They’re here in the balcony.” Barnes said over his shoulder, steadfastly ignoring the genius trying to look him in the eyes. Tony winced when he saw Rhodey walking towards them.

Sourpatch took stock of all three men before him and asked, “What’s up?” Barnes moved aside to let Rhodey into the balcony without saying a word. “Tony?”

Tony gave up on trying to catch Barnes’ eye, “Nothing, buddy. The party just got a little stuffy so Rogers suggested we step outside for a bit of fresh air.”

The older man narrowed his eyes at the genius before pinning the blond super soldier with a stern glare, “Is that so?”

Rogers predictably straightened his back and met Rhodey’s glare head on, “Yes.”

Tony wanted to roll his eyes at how quick Rogers had concurred with his excuse. He had expected that the man would insist on ‘talking’ some more in front of the others, especially since he was blathering on about team unity or whatever earlier. The blond was getting accustomed to omitting the truth.

_Careful there, Rogers. Someone might call you a liar._

They were at a standoff for a second before Barnes broke the silence.

“Sam said that Happy’s got the car up front. Natalia’s also done with sweet talking the organizers into letting us all leave.” He informed them, eyes glued to his phone. Putting his phone back into his trouser pocket, Barnes turned towards the hall, silently beckoning them to follow.

The limo ride back to the Compound was quiet except for Wilson and Romanoff’s conversation about the former’s first ever gala and schmoozing as an Avenger. Tony, careful about Rhodey beside him, stealthily sent Barnes a text message. He knew the man preferred to keep his phone on vibrate to avoid too much noise.

Blue-gray eyes slid over to him when the message was sent but the man didn’t pull his phone out to read the text, opting to continue looking out of the window instead for the whole ride.

* * *

Tony had never felt the urge to stab anyone, even his mortal enemies, but he sure as hell could understand what it felt like as FRIDAY alerted him to the news by popping them up in the holoscreens as he worked on the new UI upgrade for the Starkphone. He wanted to march upstairs and shove a screwdriver up Rogers’ nose. He wasn’t sure it would help with tightening the loose screws the bastard had but it would make Tony feel better.

It was less than 24 hours after the gala and now another scandal was banging on their doorstep. In a cruel twist of fate or whatever, it wasn’t the archer nor the witch that caused the stir. Add insult to the injury, it was a perverse version of the original aim: him and Rogers showing a united front. All the gossip sites and major news channels were going on and on about him and Rogers finally _reconciling_.

Dammit, he knew.

He knew he should’ve checked and never taken what Rogers said seriously. But what did he really know?

Subconsciously he had assumed that Rogers wouldn’t be stupid enough to be careless with his reputation. It wasn’t just Tony who would be dragged through the mud for something like this and to be honest, it wouldn’t really do much to him. Hell, it was an open secret that Tony was attracted and had flings with men too. Steve Rogers though?

The guy who hailed from the time wherein homosexuality was illegal?

America’s greatest soldier?

_Gay?_

_Bi?_

Captain fucking America?

And said to be in a relationship with the son of his old friend whom developed an obsession with finding his body in the depths of the Antarctic?

Oh, the jokes were really writing themselves.

The talks from before were easy to dismiss because Tony was with Pepper. At the same time, Rogers was so ridiculously straitlaced that even thinking of the literal poster boy for American machismo being attracted to other men was laughable and hailed from the realm of unthinkable.

There may have been a few whispers about the blond and Barnes but people tossed it aside when what happened to the latter under HYDRA came to light. Captain America was saving someone from the clutches of an evil organization whereas Steve Rogers was helping his friend and brother. Add in that Rogers was spotted getting coffee with Sharon Carter a time or two after SHIELD fell.

Whoever took the picture was, regrettably, good. The angle made it seem like he and Rogers were locked in a passionate embrace and sharing a sweet, loving kiss.

_Ugh._

The headlines were all kinds of bullshit and it definitely made that old rumor about them having an affair resurface which pissed him off even more. He could almost see all those social media accounts that died during the Civil War rising from their graves. _Goddammit_.

**No More Trouble in Paradise: Cap and Iron Man back together again.**

**Superhero romance uncovered: How Captain America and Iron Man kept their not-so-secret love affair under wraps.**

**Move over, Romeo and Juliet! Click to see the Super couple’s much more iconic balcony kiss.**

Tony had FRIDAY dig further to find out who took the picture and he wanted to scream at the high heavens when he saw who the reporter was.

It was the man who bumped into Rogers at the gala!

Staring at the picture a little longer made the pieces fall into place.

He didn’t pay the man any mind after that short interaction but now that he thought about it, the man did have a camera along with an entry pass for the media hanging on his neck. Rogers then handed him his pack of ciga--

_Cigarettes…_

Fuck, the balcony was above the smoking area and Rogers brought him there. He also recalled how the blond had looked for lurkers on their way to the balcony. He vaguely remember seeing a sign on the wall saying that the balcony was near the smoking area as Rogers pulled him down the corridor.

Didn’t hear a camera, eh? The genius thought snidely as he crumpled the sandwich wrapper in his hand before chucking it into the bin across the lab. He wondered if there was an underlying reason as to why Rogers was so quick to allay Tony’s worries about someone seeing them.

_Goddamn liar._

All he had for now were conjectures but if all of it turned out to be true…

Tony groaned, raking a hand through his hair.

Another merry clusterfuck he had to sort out.

He glanced at his papers scattered over the table and caught sight of his phone.

No one had seen Barnes at all the moment they got back to the Compound. He had asked FRIDAY to track the man for him too but she refused, saying that the super soldier asked her not to do so. The tracking was a dick move on Tony’s part and an invasion of privacy protocols but he was getting worried. The last time Barnes had disappeared was when the man had a night terror, eliciting an episode and he ended up attacking them before getting out of the Compound. He was gone for two days.

The expression Barnes had last night at the balcony was reminiscent of the one he had then.

Tony stared at his phone, silently willing the damn thing to make a sound and alert him to a call or a text. He kept that up for several minutes but the blasted thing was too fucking stubborn. He had tried calling a few times but it went straight to voicemail.

Giving up, he placed his arms on top of the table and buried his head underneath them.

“Stupid Barnes.”

* * *

He had effectively dodged all of Rogers’ attempts at _talking_ to him by staying at the Stark Tower. No one could enter the Tower’s penthouse unless given access by FRIDAY, Pepper, Rhodey and Tony himself, thus it was a good place to lay low. He barred any calls or messages from the blond unless it was a call to assemble. He wasn’t up to any of Rogers’ ‘conversations’ at the moment. Besides, he also left the Compound because any more of Barton’s smirks, Maximoff’s sneers and even Lang’s stilted, clueless—completely unnecessary—well wishes for him and Rogers was a surefire way to drive him up the wall.

It was a small mercy that Wilson had the wherewithal to ask if any of the news flying around were true. Let him and Romanoff deal with that mess with Rogers. He felt bad about leaving Vision, especially after the guy volunteered to babysit Barton and the witch while they were at the gala, but the younger man told him that he would be fine.

“It is quite a stressful time for you, Tony. Everyone needs a day off or two. In your case, however, I believe a long vacation is well-deserved.”

The thought touched Tony so much that he vowed to have the finest bonsais straight from Japan that the synthezoid could ever want to be delivered to the Compound, much to Vision’s amusement.

After making the necessary arrangements, he called Happy to stock the pantry in the penthouse and took one of the suits to fly him to the Tower. Pepper didn’t have to ask why he wanted to get out of the Compound when he called her mid-flight that he will be using the penthouse for a while. The redhead was furious at the barrage reporters calling at SI for an interview. The press, according to what FRIDAY had found out, was trying to push a narrative of Pepper being Tony’s beard to keep his ‘relationship’ with Rogers out of the news. And that it was also the main reason why Pepper was handed CEO of the company out of the blue—it was her reward for _services rendered_.

Tony almost gave in to the siren’s call of pulling a lot of strings to shut several celebrity magazines down for that. Not that he needed to do anything though, Pepper told him that she’d be the one handling that part of the mess as it was not only stepping on her integrity as CEO of Stark Industries but also as a person and his friend.

Knowing Pepper, with the vicious, vengeful streak that hid beneath her beautiful face, those fuckers could pray all they want and no one would save them from her wrath. Stark Industries might have to create a new budget line for flowers to send to a number of funerals when she got her fill. Rhodey was called in for a separate mission after the gala, therefore Tony was spared from the dressing down of the century. His best friend wouldn’t give a damn about getting kicked out of the Accords and court martialed if he found out about Tony’s suspicions that Rogers set him up.

Pushing all those thoughts aside, Tony finished cleaning up and gathering his supplies before strolling out of the bathroom. He tried to concentrate on feeling _lighter_ and not on how that sensation came to be, but he figured discomfiture was always attached when one did an enema.

It wasn’t something he did fairly regularly—wouldn’t want to hurt his colon. The reason he performed enemas on himself was mostly medical, especially for a man his age, and partly sexual. The latter reason, however, was during his younger years. He was, admittedly and with no small amount of shame, an all-you-can-fuck buffet back then.

After storing his kit, he decided to stay in a loose pair of boxers and a robe, feeling lazy to rummage for clothes. An enema and a warm shower was bound to get someone lethargic. Then, he sauntered to the living area where he left his delivered Greek salad—extra olive oil on the side—an hour ago.

Tony almost swallowed his tongue to prevent himself from screaming like a bitch when he found Barnes sitting on the sofa, acting as if he was just dropping by for some tea and did not go missing without a trace for nearly a week.

“Barnes…” he breathed. His chest rose and fell as the worry he’d been harboring for days ebbed so suddenly at seeing the man. “W-when did you—wait. How did you get in?”

The taller brunet’s head slowly turned to his direction.

“Where have you been?”

Just like the others, his questions remained unanswered. Tony may as well be talking to air. Annoyed, he glared at his unexpected guest, “Are you just going to sit there and do your best imitation of dust motes or wh—“ the rest of the genius’ snappish rant was wiped clean—pun not intended—from his mind as he took in the super soldier’s face.

Raging thunderstorms interwoven with the icy fury of a barren tundra set upon a cavalier veneer stared back at him.

Despite the languidness in the near unassuming way Barnes sat on that sofa, Tony couldn’t help the shudder that skittered over his flesh as the man continued to silently survey him. For one insane moment, he would’ve told anyone who cared to listen that the temperature in the suite dropped to negative integers due to Barnes’ presence despite knowing very well that the Tower’s thermostat was maintained by FRIDAY in comfortable levels.

He didn’t have a clue about what was going on in Barnes’ head but one thing was for sure, in some way or another,

Tony was well and truly…

_Fucked_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to think of this as the calm before the storm.  
> Yay, we're finally getting that talk.  
> I think?
> 
> Thanks for stopping by!


	6. Snares and traps, prey falls down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky ought to send Rhodes some flowers and goodie basket for the advice. The colonel was swiftly becoming one of Bucky’s favorite people.
> 
> _Twist that guilt a bit and Tony will crack like an egg._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look, I updated....there must be something wrong. 😂😂
> 
> If you're still reading this, I thank you.  
> To tell you all the truth, I did have some thoughts about abandoning it. However, the kind comments really encouraged me.  
> I am grateful.
> 
> This is a shared POV.  
> Unbeta'ed as usual, forgive the mistakes.
> 
> **Warning: skin crawling thoughts and actions.**
> 
> Enjoy!

Bucky kept his face in a neutral and relaxed expression as he followed Rhodes to their first stop. He knew there was no love lost between them and that socializing with each other wasn’t the real reason the man picked him over Wilson.

He didn’t miss the suspicious look the other man gave Stark when he revealed back at the Compound that FRIDAY helped him pick his suit. Then again, it wasn’t like Bucky wasn’t planning for anyone to notice that he was getting close to Stark. He wasn’t breaking Stark’s request to keep things private if he wasn’t outright telling people. If someone figured it out, well, Stark would just have to accept it.

Rhodes was probably piecing together a speech chock full of threats to make him stay away from his best friend in his head.

How cute _._

He couldn’t help but laugh inwardly at Rhodes thinking that he could do something about it because Bucky didn’t have to do anything at all. He imagined the look on Rhodes’ face when he realized that it's _Stark_ himself doing all the work for him.

And Rhodes would have no choice but to watch Stark smiling beside Bucky until _Death_ decided to take the man away. But then again, the colonel was a large part of Stark’s life, thus him having an actual say in some of Stark’s choices wouldn’t be far off.

Unless…unless, _someone_ took the good colonel out of the picture.

The crooning of his _ladies_ as they echoed his thoughts on the matter tickled him too. _Death_ and _Lust_ leading the pack.

_Another offering, dear?_

_You do look so ravishing splattered with red._

Bucky deftly snagged one of the flutes from the tray carried by a waitress he passed by. He drank half the contents in one go, contemplated breaking off the delicate stem and stabbing Rhodes in the chest with it. _It’ll be quick_ , he thought, he’d make it look like he accidentally poured his drink all over the man then drag him outside to get rid of the carcass.

 _Stark’s all yours if you got rid of Rhodes_ , _Greed_ giggled, twirling around him.

 _Do it,_ _Envy_ supplied, _You and Stark won’t need to hide again_.

 _No_. _Pride_ hissed, caressing his face, _Sloppy._

Bucky frowned into the glass, _she_ was right. It was a roughshod plan. Too many people had seen them together and the Avengers would be able to trace it back to him. If that happened, he would lose Stark.

_We don’t want that now, do we my love?_

No. He couldn’t have that.

So, yes, Rhodes would have to live a long, fulfilled life if he wanted to keep Stark. Bucky would have to accept that he’d have to grit his teeth, nod like a fucking yesman and play nice with the man til the end of time if he didn’t want his baby to cry.

 _Oh, the things I do for you, doll_. Bucky sighed mentally.

He drank the rest of his drink and he watched Rhodes greet the other guests at the table, feeling the mellow thrum of disappointment ring in his head in tune with the _slop_ of the _wriggling_ maggots crawling around in the rancid pus that _seeped_ out of the crevices of his rotten mind.

* * *

“We don’t have much time, so I’m just gonna say it. I really don’t like you, Barnes.” Rhodes told him after they stepped out the ballroom after finishing their rounds. They got a short break from the party because they’ve finished mingling with all the faceless guests assigned to them much earlier than expected.

Bucky found it absolutely _hilarious_ how being faced with the infamous Winter Soldier made the blowhards and the ‘powerful’ members of the military rush the conversations, regardless of the effort Rhodes put to make most of the elbow rubbing by talking shop. Especially those from intelligence, bastards wouldn’t even look in his direction. Apparently, seeing the _ghost_ that foiled and stolen most of their classified and top-secret projects with ease in the flesh turned their insides into dishwater.

His amusement went up whenever the colonel grumbled under his breath and shot Bucky an annoyed glare when the guests would pull excuses out of their asses just so they could be away from the two of them—well, only one of them in particular.

And so here they were, standing outside in the hallway with Rhodes blathering about how didn’t like Bucky.

The way Rhodes still tried to imbue some thread of politeness in that statement also had _tittering_ and _delighted shrieks_ fill his head. As if he expected Bucky to react negatively to being disliked by him.

Like Bucky _actually_ _cared_ about what he thought.

He half-wondered what the man would say if he answered, _Why, Colonel…my heart bleeds. If I had known that you don’t like me at all, I should’ve just stabbed you earlier then ripped your trachea out your damn neck. But you see, my doll wouldn’t like it if you died, so I guess I forgive you._

Alas, that would reach Stark’s ears sooner than one could say Hallelujah, thus Bucky only put on a slightly resigned face.

“I…understand, Colonel. We had our differences and I’m one of the reasons that you fell.”

Rhodes surprised Bucky when he scoffed, “Shut up. I’m an Airman, Barnes. I’ve always known that one day something will happen and I’ll fall mid-flight. That’s not the reason why I don’t like you, or your buddy Rogers.”

_Hm?_

That would leave only one reason then.

The only one that mattered really.

“It’s Tony.”

_See_?

“Stark?”

“You’re really gonna play like that? Okay, I’ll get to the point—”

Stay away from Tony.

“—Stay away from Tony, you hear me?”

_Dingdingding!_

“Colonel, the whole point being in a team is to connect with your teammates. I understand that you might think I’m going to hurt him considering our history, but let me assure you. I _won’t_.”

Rhodes’ expression turned impervious at his wording and a _thrilled_ chanting echoed inside Bucky’s head.

_He knows!_

_He knows!_

“That’s reassuring, Barnes.” The other man drawled, derision in every syllable, “ _not_. How the hell’s that supposed to calm me down if whenever I visit the Compound I see both you and Rogers staring at my little brother like a piece of meat?”

Bucky blinked, the man was apparently more observant than he cared to give him credit for.

“With all due respect, colonel, Stark’s a very attractive man. I couldn’t be hard pressed to deny that. Also, if we’re talking about undressing a teammate with our eyes then I suppose you and Wilson staring at Natalia’s ass earlier counts? Sure, I can tell you don’t really have a thing for her but you have to admit that she’s an undeniably beautiful woman.”

“Mothafu—“Rhodes bit off then exhaled roughly, “Okay, you won that round, asshole. But my point still stands. _Stay away the fuck from Tony_. I don’t give a damn if you think he’s hot. He doesn’t need you and that dirtbag war buddy of yours making his life miserable. You bastards already caused too much damage.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt him.”

“And that makes it all the better for you doesn’t it? What happened to you was fucked up but that’s to your gain now right? When all the shit happened, you didn’t have a choice.”

_What’s this?_

_He’s figured it all out now?_

_Kill him?_

No, we’ll play nice.

He tuned out the _buzzing_ and _nattering_ in that corner of his head, focusing on the rest of Rhodes’ words.

“Rogers, I can ignore, because I know even Tony’s dumbass wouldn’t go for _that_ level of self-serving delusion. Not anymore. Thank Lord baby Jesus for Pepper Potts and for Tony waking up much sooner. _You_ , however…”

Bucky raised a brow as he filed that information about Steve away. Stark _did_ like Steve and from the sound of it, it wasn’t hero worship either. Tsk.

“I’m what?” if he sounded a tad disinterested, that was just because he was. Bucky was listening more to the scratch of _squiggling_ insects and shrill _giggles_ that accompanied the groan of the jagged gears in his head as he pondered on that piece of knowledge.

A snarl suddenly appeared on Rhodes’ face, “Most people always made Tony feel like he should be _guilty_ for being as privileged as he is, even though Tony never asked to be born a genius and into a fuckton of money. The fact he also gets in over his head at times gave people the justification they need to blame Tony for everything, even things he had no control over. All of which resulted in him unconsciously developing a complex that’s alarmingly near masochistic on top being naturally kind. Whenever he wants to help someone, he gets an urge to go above and beyond what’s necessary, no matter if he gets hurt in the process. That makes it easy to take advantage of him. Just twist that guilt a bit and Tony’s going to crack like an egg. It happened with Stane, it happened with the Avengers and now, the same shit with Rogers at the beginning is happening with you, only much _worse_. This broken white boy shit you got going on is hitting all of Tony’s buttons and _you know it_.”

_Ah, ah, ah…smart man._

_You really should just get rid of him._

If only.

Then again, everything was as he planned it to be, ergo Bucky nor _they_ had no room to complain.

_Rhodes is speeding things up for you._

_Why, aren’t you just a clever boy?_

“Colonel, you’re looking out for your friend, I get it. But if it wasn’t clear the first time, let me say it again. I’m not going to hurt him.” He leveled the younger man a look that showed all he left unsaid: _and_ _I will destroy anyone who tried_.

Message received it would seem because Rhodes’ snarl slowly melted into understanding.

“Huh.” Rhodes huffed, crossing his arms, “You’re not denying it?”

Bucky supposed dropping his mask a bit would be more of an advantage at this point, so he replied, “Will it change anything if I did?”

“No.” the other man returned, “That’s actually preferable than what Rogers is doing, that’s all you’ll get from me. Your buddy’s Stefford-ish, good guy routine is already way past _overdone_.” Bucky chuckled at the distaste in the colonel’s voice. “I’ll admit Tony seemed more at ease when you two got close but that doesn’t mean I had to like what you’re doing. Especially if you’re just stringing him along for shits and giggles.”

He tutted, leaning on the wall opposite the man, “If it’s just sex, it wouldn’t be difficult for me to get that Rhodes. I can just go around a corner or to a club.”

That raised Rhodes’ hackles again, “ _You’re sleeping with Tony_?”

Bucky pushed himself off the wall, face devoid of anything as he replied monotonously, “Don’t worry, we just braid each other’s hair and talk about boys and girls. Nothing out of the ordinary.”

A series of beeps stopped Rhodes from cursing Bucky’s entire family tree and the man pulled his phone out of his suit jacket. His eyes went to Bucky after reading the message, all thoughts of murdering the super soldier gone.

“It’s Romanoff. She said Rogers and Tony aren’t in the ballroom. She’s asking us to find them.”

_Ooh, different super soldier, my love._

_Not you for now, dear boy._

Yes, how _unfortunate_ that it wasn’t him.

Bucky quickly filtered through the times he had caught a glimpse of Steve and Stark at the party. The last time was when some reporter bumped into Steve. They were near the exit that led to the balconies overlooking the garden.

“I think I know where they are.”

Rhodes nodded before jabbing a finger near Bucky's face, “We’re not done talking.” He grounded out before stalking down the hall.

As they searched for the other two, whispers ricocheted in every corner of Bucky’s mind, each one alluring and deceptively sweet.

_Steve’s pushing his luck, huh?_

_Touching what belongs to someone else…naughty, naughty._

_Have you ever considered being the **only** super soldier, my love **?**_

Had he? 

While under HYDRA's control?

He did.

Out of it?

_Maybe._

* * *

Bucky ought to send Rhodes some flowers and goodie basket for the advice. The colonel was swiftly becoming one of Bucky’s favorite people.

_Twist that guilt a bit and Tony will crack like an egg._

When he saw Stark in that balcony with Steve, he knew something happened. The way Stark kept his eyes on him as if begging him to understand and the underlying _complacency_ that Steve tried to bury under the staunchness he showed Rhodes enabled Bucky to come to that conclusion.

On the way back to the Compound, he caught the minute nod Rhodes threw his way when Bucky didn’t check the message Stark sent him.

_Pfft_.

 _Foolish, foolish_..

Let him think that his threats worked. It’s going to be grand the moment Rhodes realized that he practically handed Stark to Bucky. Leaving soon after the gala showed Stark that Bucky knew something was up, refusing contact also brought the notion that Bucky was _hurting_.

Was he, though?

No, no…he was _furious_.

More so when he saw that picture online, however, Bucky remembered that it only served his purpose. A physical evidence of Stark’s ‘ _guilt’_ that would have him running straight to Bucky with just a little _twist_.

He rubbed his metal thumb over his lower lip, tilting his head at his handiwork.

The office space was a mess, like a robbery happened. Papers and books everywhere, pieces of a crushed camera scattered all over the floor.

He smirked at the video playing on loop in the computer screen.

It was lucky their paparazzo had the whole thing on record and just took one frame as the money shot.

When the news came out, he had half the mind to kill this meddling idiot but realized the man wouldn’t even be worth the effort. So instead, he ransacked the paparazzo’s home office while the latter was out for work.

Tracking the photographer was ridiculously easy that his _ladies_ clucked _their_ tongues and Bucky feared the maggots have deflated out of _boredom_.

He just wanted to scare the guy a bit, nothing serious. Also, the ennui from being cooped up in his hotel room for days was getting to him, so why not go out and have some fun? He was also getting back at this moron while he was at it.

The guy gave Steve a chance to touch Bucky’s babydoll after all.

Finding the video was a bonus though. He made a copy into his phone, cackling all the while when he found that the photographer saved it in the folder containing all his porn. Bucky almost went into cardiac arrest from laughing too much when he clicked on one of the videos—the actors were cosplaying as _Captain America_ and _Iron Man_. He checked the rest of the thumbnails on the screen and found the same thing. Apparently, their shutter-happy buddy hit the jackpot at the gala and seized the opportunity to have a more _authentic_ fap material.

The little shit.

_My, my, my..._

_Filthy worm, isn’t he?_

If he showed the video to Stark and told him that he knew Stark wouldn’t even think of intentionally hurting him, there wouldn’t be anything else for Rhodes nor Steve to do. But not yet, that would bring up questions if he showed it so soon. Bucky would just have to show up _so upset_ about the whole thing.

He’d have to wait a few more days though, let Stark stew over it before he showed up. With the news channels spouting all this nonsense about him and Steve, Bucky was certain he’d be up in his Tower avoiding everybody.

“Just wait a bit more, doll.” He whispered, caressing Stark’s face over the computer screen. He gave the room another once over and turned towards the door. It was time to go.

Melodic _cooing_ and the phantom sensation of cold arms draping on his shoulders kept him company throughout the day.

* * *

More or less a minute had passed and Barnes still hadn’t said a word. Tony almost wished he could go back to his bedroom to get changed. A thin robe and loose cotton boxers didn’t really make for protection against the cold.

He frowned.

Christ, the awful puns were emerging.

He was definitely putting the preternatural ability of a sniper to stay still while observing a target to good use. Mixed with Barnes’ reputation as a cold-blooded killer (shit) and—as Tony had observed—predisposition that greatly leaned towards _apathy_ despite the cheerfulness he used to show back in the days of yore, it wasn’t a surprise that the billionaire was getting nervous. The soldier seemed content to watch Tony fight the impulse to squirm more than anything else.

_Much like how a predator would be stock still, feeding on the scent of fear from the prey it chanced upon, before lunging and ripping it to shreds._

Since his probing didn’t go anywhere, Tony had half a mind to fall back on his usual headassery of joking his way out of tense situations but he bit his tongue.

He’d be a dumbass to risk it because Tony wasn’t graced by the presence of another man.

Oh no.

Far from it.

He was face to face with what would most likely be an amalgamation of the infamous Winter Soldier and Wakanda’s White Wolf.

Wasn’t that just grand?

He had seen evidence of Barnes’ temper from time to time though not on this magnitude. Mad Eye Nick might have to surrender the name ‘Fury’ to Barnes and take up _Moody_ instead.

Whatever ticked the man off was something Tony would avoid like the goddamn plague in the future. He had an idea as to what it was but, that would be too much self-flattery and it was probably a coincidence that the crap with Rogers happened at the same time with the thing that pissed the super soldier before him. Of course, that was obviously wishful thinking with a hefty dose of denial but never let it be said that Tony Stark and abjuration didn’t do sleepovers and braided each other’s hair.

_Think, Stark. You’re going to end up as fish chum if you don’t do anything to deescalate —_

Tony cursed himself for jolting visibly when he saw Barnes move. The taller brunet’s vibranium hand paused from taking the glass of water on the table beside Tony’s salad. The glass filled with more ice than water and heavily coated by condensation, which wasn’t how the genius left it.

Barnes must’ve drank the water then filled the glass with ice after he came in, Tony rationalized.

The soldier—still so maddeningly quiet—took it from the table and kept eye contact as he took a long swig. He had never been more unsettled by anyone’s gaze than with Barnes’. Those eyes were exuding slivers of warmth while being blisteringly cold and were as sympathetic as they were calculating.

Damn.

And he thought the Winter Soldier’s vacuous stare was terrifying.

At least with the Soldier’s, one would know that death was on the menu, fuck, it was literally the whole damn course. With Barnes as he was in this moment, however, Tony couldn’t make a more accurate guess regarding how things would go. Good or bad? Bad to worse? Bad to better? Or to nothing at all?

The genius felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

He himself thrived on being unpredictable. That was how he had survived the Ten Rings, Stane, Vanko, Killian and all of the other sons of bitches that tried to bring him down. Thus, when the people he met, especially those whose actions he had a bit of a problem predicting, veered away from what Tony knew of them, it was a major cause for concern.

Barnes was changing directions fast and it was disorienting. Tony was really walking on thin ice here.

He grimaced inwardly, his eyes sliding to the floor. Fucking puns were coming up at the most inopportune moments.

  
“Babydoll?”

The gentle tone surprised Tony enough that it effortlessly cleaved through his panicked thoughts and his gaze flew to meet unreadable blue grays.

“Y-yes?” he replied, confused and annoyed by how eager he sounded. So much that he didn’t get as crabby as he would’ve with the pet name. Barnes put the glass back on the table and signaled for Tony to move closer to him.

“Come over here?” The taller man said it in a way that anyone else listening would be able to tell it was as much a request as it was a directive.

Not sparing a second, Tony crossed the space between them to do as asked.

Warning bells in his brain didn’t go off and alert him about the danger, even though it knew very well how deadly Barnes truly was.

It might have been the, dare he say it, affectionate note in Barnes’ voice and the relief that he was now willing to respond _verbally_ that lulled Tony in a sense of security, or the utter fact that his sense of preservation had always been wonky. In addition, Rhodey was away and Steven _Goddamnhimtohellandback_ Rogers fried some of his brain cells with stress, ergo his impulse control was at an all-time low.

Whatever it may have been, Tony the dumbass just did what the lethal, ticked off assassin wanted.

_Yay_.

When he stopped before him, Tony almost jumped in surprise when Barnes’ forehead bumped into his abdomen. They stayed like that for who knew how long until the silence became unbearable and Tony cracked.

“Barnes?” he didn’t know why he was whispering but perhaps he subconsciously gathered that anything more than a whisper would make this delicate bubble around them burst and spook the other man into running away again.

He couldn’t have that.

Not when Barnes obviously chose to return to where he was.

 _Only_ to where he was.

“Talk to me?” he added.

The man went on silent mode again apparently and just snaked his arms around Tony, bringing him closer and bunching up his robe around the middle of his thighs. Tony, in turn, wrapped the soldier’s head with his arms, his calloused fingers threading through the taller brunet’s now short hair.

“Where have you been, soldier?” he asked, coaxingly, as though he was whispering to a sleeping child.

“Somewhere.” Barnes replied in a gruff whisper.

“Tell me?”

The only response he got were the tightening of the super soldier’s arms around his hips and he felt the cold tip of Barnes’ nose trace upward a sliver of his tummy that got exposed from the v of his robe when it went into disarray. He tried to suppress the judder that ran through him when the press of warm, slightly chapped lips replaced it. The tremors were stronger at the nearly negligible scratch of those lips against him, even so, Tony still tried to stop them. Nevertheless, judging by how Barnes went on to slowly rub his stubbled jaw, like an amorous wild animal, back and forth on that little patch of skin, he didn’t succeed.

His nails dug on impulse into Barnes’ scalp when the man proceeded to nip on that bit of lightly _sensitized_ flesh. Not with his front blunt front teeth, but with his _canines_ instead, each bite was sharp enough to make him jolt but not painful enough to make him push the man away.

“B-Barnes.”

“Shh.”

Even wild horses wouldn’t be able to drag the truth out of him if someone asked why his breath hitched, and again, only much closer to a gasp, when the man repeated his previous action, this time adding more force and palliating the skin with a short slide of his tongue, followed by an open mouthed kiss. Tony almost wanted to cry when he realized that Barnes was paying attention approximately to the area where the heat coiled tightly in his gut. The engineer knew the man was no telepath nor did he have any way of knowing but it didn’t mean that his ministrations didn’t drive Tony up the proverbial wall.

 _Damn_ , _this is not fair_ , Tony thought, when he felt his dick swiftly fill up. His blood rushing south lightning fast he was a bit lightheaded.

He tried to get the man’s attention by patting Barnes’ shoulder, however, the soldier—without even stopping what he was doing—just grabbed Tony’s hand with his natural one and entangled their fingers. Barnes only took a small break from _torturing_ that small area of Tony’s belly to give a gentle kiss to the inside of the genius’ wrist, the fan of the taller man’s eyelashes brushing on the thin skin of Tony’s arm as he did so. Blue grays flicked up to warm browns in a split second before the soldier went back to what he was doing.

As if to spite him, the man continued as if he had all the time in the world. He ignored Tony’s small jolts and lurches, as well as the probably painful yanks at his hair, when a bite felt a tad deeper than the one prior did.

Tony knew there wasn’t even a drop of alcohol in his system that day, but the sensations were _heady_ and everything was happening too fast but at the same time _not fast enough_. He was torn between wanting to stop but he couldn’t remember why and asking Barnes to just hurry the fuck up.

He didn’t even notice the metal arm unwound around his hips which was why Tony barely stopped his knee jerk reaction to kick like a donkey when he felt _cold—_ fuck, that was from the glass—smooth, metal gliding over the inside of his legs. Those fingers were moving in time with each swipe of Barnes’ tongue over that bit of skin above the knot of his robe. The way Barnes made the plates over the knuckles of that hand gently ripple against Tony’s skin injected a tiny surge of adrenaline into his bloodstream because the opening and closing of the plates felt like a much softer nibbling than what the man’s _sinful_ mouth was doing.

The simultaneous application of hot and cold stimulus on his skin was wreaking havoc on Tony’s nerves; even more when he felt Barnes’ shoulder sometimes bump against his eager cock.

Goddammit, Barnes had _yet_ to give him the bare minimum but his stupid body just willingly signed itself over to the man, no questions asked. Dammit, he was such a slut. It was as if all his body knew was that it was being touched by someone it _greatly approves_ of, unlike when it had been the other soldier.

The other soldier…

Like a person who’d been asleep being doused with a basinful of water, recalling what happened at the gala made some of Tony’s brain function go back online as the thought flitted into his mind.

That was it.

This had to stop.

He made an effort to buck away from those torrid, incessant lips but Barnes only pulled him back using their intertwined hands and the metal hand that slid back up on Tony’s hip.

Nope, he had grown new grays on his temples while Barnes was away. They would have that talk now, whether the other man liked it or not.

For the record, it’s not that he wasn’t on board with what Barnes had in mind, Tesla knew _he was_ , but he had to let the man know that he didn’t get any work done the past few days because he thought about where the other had been the whole time. With utmost _reluctance_ , Tony moved to get the soldier’s attention again by gently pushing him away with the hand that was tangled in the latter’s hair. He let go of the strands and pushed.

At least, he thought he would have.

“W-wait, Barnes...hol-oh God, _fuck_!”

His body suddenly felt like it was caressed by a livewire when Barnes deftly avoided the genius’ hand pushing him away. He ducked lower and nuzzled into Tony’s crotch instead, rubbing that fine jaw against the smaller brunet’s hard dick. In other circumstances, it should have hurt like hell, but the thin cotton of his boxers and nearly as thin robe cushioned Tony’s heated flesh against the pinprick of Barnes’ stubble. The hand that was supposed to move Barnes away ended up tugging him _closer_ instead.

He felt a rush of warmth suffuse his cheeks when he realized that the cloth that separated them wasn’t the only one to thank. His boxers were rapidly putting Niagara Falls to shame with how _wet_ it was. With Tony fully distracted, Barnes, the opportunistic bastard, took the chance to go from nuzzling his dick to _mouthing_ at it.

The genius wanted to smack Barnes upside the head when the soldier _nipped_ along the shaft outlined in the flimsy layers dampened by precum and spit. The moist, hot mouth pressing sordid kisses over the clothed appendage and the soldier coupled it with his metal fingers _digging_ into the meat of Tony’s ass, both of which elicited a high-pitched whine that the billionaire tried to stifle.

The sound spurned the super soldier even more.

“Hnn…oh, shit, please jus—fuck, I-I said… _wait_.”

Tony would give a handful of priests a run for their money with the herculean effort he put into squashing the lust thrumming in his veins as he tightened the hand he had buried in Barnes’ hair get him to stop. He was about to pull the man back when it became clear that he need not to because Barnes stopped as soon as he felt Tony steel himself to put distance between him and the engineer’s groin.

“Barnes, why won’t you talk to me?” he called softly, going back to threading his hand through the other’s hair.

Normally, Tony would’ve been frustrated that they’ve gone back to square one, Barnes wasn’t responding again. However, this wasn’t one of his stubborn prototypes that wouldn’t mesh with the upgrades he put in it or another dumb proposal from his company’s R&D. This was a man, who, in spite of everything that happened to him, was still fighting tooth and nail rather than just letting it all trample him into the dirt. Contrary to popular belief, Tony actually knew how privileged he was, despite the unabashed way he would use it to get things to go his way at times, while on the flip side, there was Barnes who didn’t have anything from the get go and lost much more than he had expected when he got drafted in the war. Point was, if there was anyone of them in the Avengers who deserved to just stop caring, drop it all, and walk away the most, Barnes would perhaps win by a wide margin.

So, no, Tony wouldn’t be mad at the man for taking a little moment to tune everything—even him—out. Tesla knew he needed that time for himself sometimes.

Barnes murmured something that Tony didn’t hear, he only felt the brush of the now damp lips on his skin.

“Sorry, I didn’t catch that. What did you say?”

Pressing a, what felt like an adoring, kiss on Tony’s abdomen, Barnes let the hand trapped in his go and used both his hands to tug the knot of the genius’ robe loose. Tony belatedly realized that the part in his robe widened from his squirming too much and that the sleeves fell off his shoulders to gather at the crook of his elbows. He paid it no mind and placed his hands over the assassin’s unusually unsteady hands.

“Barnes,” the firm tone made the taller man stop, “stop it.” He took that opportunity to cup the other man’s face with both hands and lifting it to face him. Barnes did stop but stubbornly kept his head down and resisted from having to show his face, a low rumble erupting from his throat. The caveman display had Tony rolling his eyes.

Barnes may have stopped making out with his belly but Tony knew something was still off, what with the way the former wouldn’t lift his head and look at the smaller man. The soldier only tucked his face in the nook of Tony’s elbow. That bugged the billionaire because he knew Barnes had a thing for watching his partners enjoy themselves. The man was a consummate lover and enjoyed the thrill of drowning his partner in pleasure. Yes, they’ve only hooked up once, but it was enough for Tony to know because he made it a matter of principle to learn the preferences of the people who shared his bed.

“You really think you did something with that, huh?” Tony deadpanned, “Listen here, _Ingcuka_. You were gone for almost a week and you didn’t even send us a message to tell us you’re okay. So quit with the attitude. I want you to tell me what’s going on.”

He felt the resistance from the other lessen and Tony pushed his face up to get a look at him. The billionaire immediately regretted it when what he was looking at registered in his mind.

 _Despondent_ would be too light a word to describe the look in Barnes’ eyes.

“Barnes, what’s—”

“ _Please_.”

The word splintered and cracked like a delicate piece of glass almost as soon as it left the confines of Barnes’ lips. Each delicate shard was reminiscent of the shrapnel that doggedly tried to rip Tony’s heart to shreds years ago.

“Please.” Barnes repeated, voice fracturing whilst he stared at the smaller man like he was the only way to salvation.

Tony’s throat worked to swallow around the jagged rocks blocking his esophagus, the weight of the look in the soldier’s eyes somewhat unnerved him. Part of him wanted to run and hide yet he was humbled and thrilled at the same time that Barnes was willing to let his guard down in front of him like this.

“What the he—”

The hesitation must have shown on his face because Barnes pressed his lips then offered him a dejected smile _._

“’m sorry.” Barnes rasped, eyes fleeting from side to side. “Damn, I don’t…what the hell was I thinking? I-I should…go.” He was about push himself up from the sofa when Tony hastily pushed him back down, confusing him. “Baby?”

“ _Stay_.” The genius gnawed on his lip, when he realized how that sounded, “Shit, I mean, you don’t have to go.”

That awfully bleak smile went up a notch, “I think I should. This isn’t—”

_Now or never._

Tony captured his lips in soft kiss, not giving a second thought about where it had been minutes ago. Rather, the intermingling taste of himself and _Barnes_ stoked the heat within him further.

The only thing clear to him was that if Barnes went out of the door, there was a big chance he wouldn’t come back. If Rhodey was around, the man would slap the life out of him while yelling that he should change his call sign to _Iron Bird_ because of how he was acting.

What was that they said about the spirit and the flesh? Ah, yes.

 _The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak_.

They should talk about whatever this was first, he knew that, but Tony had already said it before. He was the patron saint of bad decisions. And if there was anything being with Barnes had proven to him, it was that he was just _so_ _damn_ _weak_.

“Are you sure about this, baby?” Barnes asked when they parted, his lips brushing against Tony’s as he spoke.

He wanted to laugh at how the tables turned but didn’t. He knew that question wasn’t just because the super soldier wanted to do the right thing too, it was partly because Barnes always liked his consent explicit. Thus, instead of laughing, Tony sucked lightly on the soldier’s lower lip before purring, “ _Never been so sure, soldier_.”

A small section of Tony’s mind screamed at him for how he had easily handed the reins to the man but he brushed it off—bad, bad Tony. It grew bigger when he caught that strange glimmer in the other man’s eyes that quickly dissipated when the blue gray irises grew thin and pupils blew wide.

A throaty moan resounded in his ears, Tony barely had time to ascertain if it was from him because the dispirited soldier from seconds ago died and was replaced by one on a mission: _to re-familiarize himself with Tony’s mouth using his tongue_.

He staggered a little when he felt Barnes’ natural hand tighten on his hair, tilting his head to redirect their kiss, making him kneel on the sofa caging the man’s thick thighs between his legs. The metal arm Barnes wrapped around Tony’s waist was taking all his weight, enabling him to balance on the slippery leather. His own hands scrambled to wind around the assassin’s neck to card through the man’s hair as their tongues danced together.

The groan that Barnes let out when Tony’s dick rubbed against him gave the genius an idea. He fully settled on the man’s lap, earning him more of that _delicious_ sound. Because Tony was one greedy bastard, he began slowly _grinding_ his hips in tight circles to hear more of the soldier’s sounds.

“ _Jesus._ ” Barnes groaned, tearing his mouth away from Tony’s and burying his face in the crook of the smaller man’s neck. He nipped and kissed along the column of the genius' neck, his metal hand moving to grip Tony’s ass. Hissing when Tony ground _hard_ against his dick that strained against the zipper of his jeans, “Knew you’d be so good dancing on my cock.”

Always hungry for approval, the genius repeated the action and moaned when the hand on his ass dug into the flesh and pulled him even _closer_ to grind _harder_ on the man’s lap. He canted his head to the side, groaning as his hips stuttered when Barnes’ teeth found that sensitive spot behind his ear. The prickle of the soldier’s facial hair also added to the sense of electricity tiptoeing along his skin.

His hands reached down to unravel the knot of his robe but Barnes’ flesh hand was quick to stop him.

“I need you to stand up again, Stark.” The taller brunet lightly traced the shell of his ear with the tip of his tongue, warm breath fanning his neck, before playfully biting the cartilage and making Tony shiver.

“ _Hngh_.”

Barnes rewarded him with another small bite for that drunken reply, chuckling, “I know, baby.” He gave Tony a short kiss, “C’mon, for me?”

Tony wanted to deny him just to see what he would do but was too wound up and much more curious to know what the man wanted to do. He slid off his perch but made sure that Barnes’ covered cock _rubbed_ in between his cheeks as he did.

“Bad boy.” Barnes breathed heavily, casually smacking his ass with flesh hand.

The contact had Tony’s breath getting caught in his throat and his knees wobbling as the _sting_ spread out to his limbs. The same hand clutched Tony’s hip to steady him on his feet. A grin tugged on the soldier’s lips, metal hand capturing the genius’ chin. “ _Did you like that, babydoll_?”

Tony didn’t have to spell it out for Barnes because the choked groan he let out was answer enough. Fuck, that raspy baritone really revved his engine like no other. The groan morphed into a whine when the man whispered against his lips, “ _Someday_ , doll. Right now, I want you to take that off for me.”

“You just want to see me strip.”

Barnes snickered, “Well, you just gave me a lap dance, Stark. Why not the whole kit and caboodle?” he lifted the glass from the table behind Tony and took a large gulp.

He narrowed his eyes at the response.

Ooh, boy…

“ _Maybe_ someday, Barnes. If you’re lucky.” He shot back, he straightened up and got his hands on the robe’s belt when Barnes stopped him again. “What?”

“Changed my mind, leave that on.”

“C’mon, it’s halfway off anyway. Might as well remove it.”

“Trust me.”

Tony harrumphed and his gaze landed on the other man’s lap. Holy hell, that zipper’s probably _engraving_ impressions along his dick.

“Oh well, if you want to clog my throat with that toddler leg hiding in your jeans—”

“Not really.”

Tony’s retort evaporated when Barnes went onto his knees before him. A _filthy_ smirk on his face, fingers tracing the genius’ ankles then slowly sliding up the hem of his robe.

“Next time, baby. Now’s gon’ be _all about you_.”

Barnes pushed his face into the part of his robe and he gave Tony’s damp crotch a few _sloppy_ , open-mouthed kisses. Each one made Tony bury a hand into the taller man’s hair and grasp his shoulder with the other. The billionaire’s legs almost gave out when the soldier’s mouth followed the line of his shaft up to the waistband of his boxers and pulled.

The assassin was _sliding_ it down Tony’s legs using his teeth.

He didn’t even know if his boxers were _that_ loose or Barnes was really that fucking lucky when it just dropped down after reaching above his knees because no one, that he knew of, had ever really done that move as smoothly as Barnes did. The soldier obviously had no intention of letting Tony think some more because the moment his _embarrassingly_ wet boxers met the floor, Barnes took him into his mouth _down to the base_ without preamble.

“Holy mother of fuc—!”

Fucking hell, apparently super soldier serum also erased the man’s gag reflex.

He might’ve said that out loud because Barnes let him go with a _pop_ just to _croak_ at him, “Nah, ‘tis all me baby.” And then had the _audacity_ to wink as he swallowed him again.

Static was the only thing left in his head then from the admission.

Goddamn, war hero Bucky Barnes, Winter Soldier and deadliest assassin of the 20th century— _champion cocksucker_.

It shouldn’t be as hot as it was but _fuck_. The more he thought about it, the more it brought him close to the edge. Christ, Barnes really brought new meaning to the words _dirty past_.

If that wasn’t enough, Barnes slipped his metal arm in between Tony’s legs, wrapping around his thigh and hitching it on his shoulder, leaving the billionaire no choice but to support his weight on his other leg. The action also pushed him _deeper_ into the other man’s throat, which resulted in another groan that sent waves dancing over his cock down to his toes.

“ _Shit. Fuckfuckfuck—ugh!_ ” He panted, chest heaving when Barnes swallowed around him, throat muscles squeezing the head of his cock. Barnes decided to have mercy and slid off his cock to mouth at his glans, only to make him _keen_ when he felt something _cold._

His eyes snapped open and had all the oxygen snatched away from his lungs when looked down at Barnes and saw it.

Motherfucker had _ice_ hidden under his fucking tongue!

Barnes—while keeping eye contact with a bewildered Tony—used said _evil_ appendage to slide the damn thing up and down the underside of the engineer’s cock before sucking at the head. His hips shook and bucked but the grip of the other man’s metal arm on him prevented any big movements.

“Barnes—fuck, oh shit.” Tony gasped. He couldn’t _breathe_. He was _so hard_ , he was also feeling the strain of balancing on one leg—hell, he was on his damn tiptoes. It hurt, but it hurt so _fucking good_.

What happened next was a testament to how damn sharp Barnes spatial awareness was. The man reinforced his hold on Tony’s thigh before pushing himself off the floor, making the billionaire frantically hold on for dear life, then sitting back on the sofa—without looking back and Tony’s dick _still_ buried in his throat.

With Barnes reclining on the backrest, the knee of Tony’s free leg got planted into the seat while his hand that wasn’t busy pulling out the soldier’s hair grabbed the backrest to balance himself. He almost cried in disappointment and relief when he felt the cold diminish. The ice had melted completely, making the _heat_ of the wet cavern of Barnes’ mouth take the center stage.

He had no idea when he had closed his eyes but when he chanced a glance on the soldier, he was met with a slow suck as the latter pulled away from his cock. Barnes kept his eyes open and hollowed his cheeks as he did so, highlighting his amazing bone structure.

When the man slowly bobbed his head twice, Tony understood. Almost bursting right there and then as he did.

 _Fuck my face, babydoll_.

Feeling Barnes’ grip on his thigh slacken, he pulled his hips back and slowly pushed back into the awaiting mouth. Cold fingers squeezed at his thigh, pulling it closer, prompting him to thrust _faster_. Sweat slid down the bridge of his nose as worked his hips, throwing in those little grinds Barnes liked.

“Argh…oh _fuck_!”

He lost the rhythm he had going when he felt warm, _slick_ fingers burrow in the valley of his ass and circle his rim.

_Slick?_

He didn’t have lube in the living room…

A second later, the flush of exertion and lust on Tony’s face went lava when he recalled _not_ feeling Barnes’ flesh hand on him the whole time the man sucked him off. While the soldier was working that devious mouth to distract him, the man still had the presence of mind to do something else.

Good lord above, he wouldn’t be looking at olive oil the same way _ever again_.

That little hint of teeth and the tight suction around his dick took his mind away from the slight discomfort of a finger pushing into him. Barnes didn’t seem to mind when Tony stopped thrusting, picked up the slack by bobbing his head back and forth.

Shit, he was sure the temperature from earlier was Antarctic’s daily average but now he may as well be inside a _thrice-damned pressure cooker_. He was panting like he ran a marathon when that finger became two, then _three_. Scissoring and stretching his hole so thoroughly. Dammit all, his body had accepted the intrusion much more easily than normal because his muscles were still relaxed from the enema.

His hips snapped forward when Barnes’ fingers brushed against his prostate. The metal arm braced his hips again, stopping the uncontrollable jolts. He _whined_ in gratitude when he felt the metal’s grip give but was faced with another dilemma. Tony didn’t know what he should do—keep fucking Barnes’ face or _fuck himself_ stupid on Barnes’ fingers.

The other man saved him from making the decision. Tony was sure the super soldier was going to be bald by the end of this when the man _tapped_ on his prostate in step with sucking his cock whilst metal fingers fondled his balls. 

_Both, babydoll._

Fingers digging into the leather of the backrest, Tony _rode_ those clever fingers and simultaneously pulling Barnes closer by his hair.

_Up and down, back and forth_.

Fuck, he felt like he was cooking from the inside out. He was going to combust if Barnes didn’t get him there _soon_.

Thankfully, Barnes had the same idea.

The continuous suction, the persistent brushing on that sensitive bundle of nerves inside him and a cold thumb pressing into his perineum had Tony’s vision whiting out and his orgasm washing over him. He was sure he had woken up the dead when he came with a _cry_. Barnes, the wonderful, _wonderful_ bastard, took the sudden spurting of come in his mouth in stride. Swallowing and sucking at the head almost to the point of _oversensitivity_.

It was only thanks to the super soldier’s reflexes that Tony didn’t fall and crack his skull on the floor. Barnes caught him when he swayed back and laid him down on the sofa. He distantly wondered if he had turned into jelly or something. His limbs felt like molasses and his vision blurry. However, none of those mattered because he felt _amazing_. He barely recognized that Barnes was peppering his temple with light kisses and whispering sweet nothings in his ear, voice shot to hell. The man was atop him, supporting his weight on the forearm of his metal arm, hips cradled between Tony’s spread legs.

“—that was so good, baby. You’re so fucking _beautiful_.”

“S’good.” Tony slurred back, blinking owlishly at him.

“It was, doll.” Barnes nuzzled his neck and nibbled, “But we ain’t done yet.”

“No?”

“No…unless, you wanna stop?” Barnes shifted and Tony jerked slightly when he felt something hard brush against the notch on his hip. _He didn’t get off yet,_ the smaller man mused. Again, he had said that aloud because Barnes grinned.

“I told you now’s all about you, baby. I’ll be fine.”

“That’s gonna hurt.” he argued. Although, the soldier seemed perfectly content even if they didn’t resume like he said, his flesh hand gently stroking up and down Tony’s body.

The beam turned into a self-deprecating half grin.

“I’ve had worse.”

Tony reached for him in a hug, for lack of anything to say. That took Barnes aback for a second then, aware of his considerable weight, little by little softened into the embrace. Tony wasn’t an idiot, one of the things that they understood about each other was that they both draw comfort from touch if words weren’t going to cut it. He wanted to bash his head against the wall that he didn’t think about that at the beginning. Barnes offered him the comfort of his touches before and now it was the other man’s turn. The assassin was asking if it was alright for him to request the same thing from him. Of course, that was the basis for their…er, _thing_ after all.

None of those convoluted pesky things that complicate people’s lives.

 _Strictly_ comfort.

_Right, keep telling yourself that, Stark…_

He indignantly chucked the thought away into the garbage bin at the corner of his mind.

They stayed tangled like that for several minutes, Barnes caressing him and murmuring against his hair like Tony was the one who needed cheering up. The interval cleared most of the fog in his head and cooled his body down a little but the heat simmered low in his belly as the touches kept coming.

“Continue?” he returned later with a lazy grin, making it clear where he stood. Anything to get that gloom clouding the super soldier’s eyes. He didn’t get a verbal response though, Barnes only smiled then dipped his head and began kissing him.

Tony happily opened his mouth when he felt the prodding of the man’s tongue seconds later. He pulled the soldier closer, nails finding purchase on the latter’s neck, drawing the muscle into his mouth and _suckled_ it like a hungry babe. He’d kissed many people in his lifetime, many of which happened after he had finished in their mouth too, but there was just something _different_ about kissing Bucky Barnes. Or the way Bucky Barnes kissed him. Either way, they could be exploring each other’s mouths all night long and well into the early morning the next day but it still wouldn’t be enough for him to figure out what _that_ was.

His hands drifted to the hem of Barnes’ shirt, slipping inside. Barnes broke the kiss to take off his shirt, making quick work of Tony’s robe and tossing both to the floor.

Tony shivered at the feel of the cold leather on his skin, legs wrapped around Barnes. The man kneeled on the sofa, spreading his thighs and splaying Tony’s legs on top of them. The difference in temperature that ran through him as Barnes’ hands _glided_ up and down his legs sent his nerves in a tizzy, making him quiver.

Barnes hovered over him and kissed his forehead before tracing the slope of his nose with those lips. His teeth worried the genius’ lower lip then sliding to press kisses into Tony’s jaw and neck. The soldier hefted the smaller man’s hip using his left hand and imitated the roll of Tony’s hips when the smaller brunet was grinding on his lap. The unforgiving grip was without doubt leaving _bruises_ on him.

“Hngh, yes…” the extra stimulation from the roughness of Barnes’ pants grazing his still sensitive dick didn’t deter the heat within him from kindling again. It would take time to get him hard again but his member gave valiant, lusty twitch in response. Tony’s hips lurched up to meet the assassin’s and his legs hiked themselves higher up Barnes’ sides when he felt the man _bite_ the meat of his shoulder. “Jesus, _shit_.”

He keened whilst Barnes gnawed and soothed his new mark with open-mouthed kisses. He was going to be a patchwork of varying shades of blues and violets. Fuck, part of him was dreading the makeup job after the super soldier was done with him but he couldn’t deny the _excitement_ of seeing and mapping them all while he looked into a mirror. He was looking forward to it, damn. The sound he let out ratcheted a notch when Barnes’ _nasty_ mouth reached his erect nipples, Tony’s nails leaving _scores_ of his own marks on the man’s back.

The taller man licked one of the buds with the flat of his tongue then gently _scraped_ it with his teeth. He repeated both then blew air on it before giving the other one the same treatment. Tony squirmed as scorching lips left his nipples to kiss down his torso, more so when Barnes reached the hickey he had placed on Tony’s abdomen.

The confused look he had when Barnes moved away, was replaced by a gasp when Barnes lifted his left leg and placed a light kiss on his toes, the top of his foot and his ankle. The man looked down at him under thick lashes, his eyes two slices of dark, wintry sky as he rubbed his prickly jaw against Tony’s calf, then relieving it with a kiss. The taller man continued with the pattern of _scratch_ , _lick_ , _kiss_ and _suck_ until he reached Tony’s infuriatingly _sensitive_ inner thighs. He grinned wickedly as he settled on his stomach and dropped Tony’s leg on his shoulder. Oh God, apparently the beardburn he definitely got from having the man’s face buried for quite some time in his crotch earlier _wasn’t_ enough. Sitting still during a meeting and walking would be a _whole bitch_.

Their eyes stayed connected when the soldier nipped at the inside of his thigh, giving him yet another love bite. Tony reached a hand down to cup his cheek and promptly _melted_ like he had when Barnes repeated what he had done a while ago—kissing the inside of his wrist. Metal digits crept to where Tony was unconsciously gripping the upholstery and tangled with his fingers.

“Fuck… _hmm_.” he moaned when Barnes took one of his balls into his mouth, the hand on the assassin’s cheek moving up to tug on his hair again. He bit down on a startled shout when Barnes’ metal hand let his go, the flesh arm pinning Tony’s hips down on the leather before the man’s mouth moved its attention _lower_.

Tiny pinpricks of light littered his vision as he felt two _cold_ fingers breach his still slick entrance inch by _agonizing_ inch without warning and a warm tongue laving around and tracing the furled muscle. The noises created were so lewd, borderline _obscene_ that Tony’s face went up in more flames. Both of his hands flew down to Barnes’ hair when metal fingers scissored inside to spread him open as the man’s tongue dipped in. Barnes wasted no time learning and charting parts that made Tony’s legs jerk and snap close around his head. 

He may have blacked out for a while when the soldier added another finger inside and all three jabbed at his overly stimulated prostate and _nipped_ at his rim.

“Oh fuc—!” He didn’t give a damn if Barnes ended up bald. His _wail_ resonated in the whole damn room when Barnes curled his fingers and _pressed_ against that fucking sensitive bunch of nerves, all the while the man’s flesh hand intermittently _squeezed_ his—miraculously—hardening shaft.

Everything was dialed to a billion and every cell in his body screamed in painful _euphoria_.

_Torture_ , he thought as his lungs labored to be filled with more oxygen.

He was being tortured.

He was sure of it now.

The man didn’t come to him for comfort.

Barnes was going to _kill_ him and his dumbass just fell for those baby seal eyes like a rock dropped from a skyscraper.

He was also taking what he said about the soldier’s coordination back. Barnes evidently had every intention of putting it to use to drive a point. What point, he didn’t know but it sure as shit was working.

Tony’s legs kicked when Barnes pressed on his prostate again and sucked his rim. The prickle of stubble on his skin, the warm breath and that tongue--dear God, _that_ _tongue_ —was driving him nuts.

Oh no, fuck it.

No more.

He was probably babbling out loud because a groan and a gruff rumble that vaguely sounded like a laugh came out of Barnes, which of course added to the sensations. _Dammit_. When Barnes’ metal fingers slipped out of him and the natural arm lifted from his hips to spread his legs wider, Tony damn near cried in relief, _solely_ in relief, this time.

He didn’t know how he had managed it but his hands had reached back and grab hold of the sofa’s arm above his head. He weakly pulled himself away from the _demon_ between his legs.

A low, annoyed growl reached his ears when he managed to drag his hips and turn away from Barnes. The soldier languidly sat up and Tony wanted to throw something at him when he was met with the _nefarious_ smirk playing on Barnes’ lips.

 _Fuck, no._ Tony’s mind screeched and he scrambled to pull himself further away to the end of the couch. Barnes’ hands grabbed the back of Tony’s thighs to pull him close again.

“Jesus fuckin—!” he exclaimed, body sliding across the leather from the rough yanking.

“Where’re you goin, baby?” came the rough, filthy whisper in his ear. “Don’t tell me the _great playboy_ Tony Stark can’t handle a _little_ foreplay?” Barnes nibbled at Tony’s ear again as he pinned the billionaire down on the couch with his hips, arms wrapping around the smaller man.

 _Godfuckingdamnyou, Barnes_. Tony mentally carped as he let out a moan. Barnes humping against his ass was rubbing his leaking dick on the sofa. Where the hell did that downtrodden, _sweet_ soldier from the beginning go? Bring him back!

“F-fuck you, Barnes. I— _hn_ —can take you any day of the week.” He wanted to repulsor his own face when the man chuckled again at his answer. In retrospect, he should’ve known that Barnes was just baiting him because the taller brunet knew that Tony’s mouth _always_ got him in trouble.

“ _Oh_?” Barnes released him and the sound of a zipper being opened along with the rustling of cloth registered in Tony’s ears. The man moved away to completely remove his pants and drop it on top of the lump of clothing on the floor, “Wanna test that hypothesis?”

Ugh, science talk. The cheat.

“Do your worst, soldier.”

Barnes’ chest brushed against his back as the man propped his hips up, putting Tony on his knees, “You’re gonna have to cancel all your meetings for a few days after this.”

“Thank _fuck_ for that.” He sassed only to end in a high-pitched laugh when Barnes shot him an impish look and whispered again in his ear,

“You’re welcome, baby.”

“You’re such an ass.”

“Yet you wouldn’t have me any other way.”

He groaned exasperatedly when he felt Barnes’ _huge_ cock slide between his cheeks—the damn thing was slippery as hell. It sure wasn’t just precum because he had firsthand— _oh, yes_ —knowledge that Barnes wasn’t a leaker.

His Italian heritage was frothing at the mouth.

“Fuck it, I’m so throwing every bottle of olive oil I have out of the Tower.”

A playful smack on his ass made Tony hiss. “Better than spit because we don't have lube out here, Stark.” Barnes chided gently as he rubbed the stinging area with his metal hand, alleviating the heat. Then because he damn could, the bastard added, “ _Flavorful_ too.”

“I hate you so much.”

“Liar, liar pants on fire.”

Tony’s response flew out of his head when the man went back to business. He arched his back and pushed his ass against Barnes with a moan when the man gripped both globes, fingers digging into the flesh as he undulated against the billionaire. The soldier moved away and parted Tony’s ass with one hand, thumb pushing past the rim, tugging at and stretching it. Behind him, there was noise of slick flesh meeting something else.

Tony sucked in a sharp breath when he got it.

 _Goddamn,_ he didn’t know that Barnes jacked off with his metal hand.

That’s going to be in the forefront of his fantasies now. He looked over his shoulder and found Barnes smirking at him and not looking at his hole, like he knew Tony’s curiosity would make him look back. Barnes’ metal hand going up and down his own dick had Tony whining.

The taller man gripped his cock at the base and _slowly_ dragged his hand up the shaft to spread both precum and the oil over it. The sight made Tony’s mouth water. It also had his half-hard cock twitching, and of course, Barnes missing nothing—not with those sharp eyes of his—squeezed his cock in time with it.

Barnes leaned over him again and caught his lips in another kiss then murmured as he probed Tony’s entrance with his _thick_ cock, “Next time, we’ll see if you can swallow all of me, baby.”

He moaned low in his throat at the mental image—fuck, the money he was going to spend on the orthognathic surgery after choking on that _monster_ was going to be so worth it.

Another one made it past his lips when he felt the blunt head push into his hole.

“ _Yeah_ , fuck, that’s it.” he gasped, savoring the slight _burn_ from the stretch despite Barnes’ thorough prep job. He braced his knees into the couch because their first rodeo made it plain to understand that Barnes liked it _rough_. If his back _bowed,_ one of his knees spread an inch wider and off the seat to ease the soldier’s way inside him some more, it was nobody’s goddamn business.

Barnes wasn’t even halfway in yet when AC/DC’s Shoot to kill had reverberated in the room and making them both freeze.

Who the fuck was calling now?

The soldier shot Tony’s cellphone beside the neglected salad a contemptuous look as it continued to ring. His forehead wrinkled then smoothened out as an _impious_ grin showed on his face.

_Shit_ , he better not be thinking what Tony was thinking—

The taller brunet reached over to the table to take the phone, making Tony jump a bit as the head of Barnes’ cock shifted inside him. He placed the noisy piece of tech in front of Tony.

“Answer it.”

Tony looked at the screen and frowned at the unknown number—it was landline, maybe a payphone? Who the fuck uses those anymore?

“Barnes, honey, I don’t know who—”

There was a blink-and-you-miss-it empty look in Barnes’ face before the soldier leaned to cover him with his body again. The move pushed him a little deeper into Tony. He pressed a kiss against the smaller man’s temple, “Baby, I said _answer_ _it_.”

The billionaire felt a _zing_ travel down his spine at the dark tone. And the fact that Barnes was still a little _hoarse_ from blowing Tony to kingdom cum made it more appealing. Tony swallowed hard as he answered, “U-unknown number.”

“It might be important. C’mon.” the words were laced with persuasion that Tony’s resolve crumbled like a sandcastle faced with a tsunami. “Calling non-stop like that.”

_So, so weak…_

He knew Barnes couldn’t care less if it was important so long as Tony did as he asked. Also, if Tony were being honest, he hadn’t done this in a long time. And the few times he did it was damn _fun._ He wasn’t an exhibitionist—not by a long shot—but he couldn’t deny the thrill of having Barnes ram him from behind whilst trying to have a decent conversation with whoever the hell called was tempting.

Against his better judgment, his finger slid across the screen to accept the call and put it on speaker.

A relieved sigh echoed over the line as the call connected then Tony’s eyes widened when a voice they both knew very well came on.

“Tony? It’s Steve, I just—”

The billionaire didn’t get the rest of what was said and let out a loud moan, almost a _scream_ , when he felt the _hard_ thrust Barnes gave as he slid into Tony _all the way to the root_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure someone ordered filth in the last chapter. Whoever you are, I hope I delivered.
> 
> This chapter is a product of listening non- stop to Adina Howard's Nasty Grind, Silk's Freak Me, MCR's The Sharpest lives and Eminem's The Monster. (weird ass playlist I know)
> 
> Thanks for reading! Keep Safe! 😘😘😘

**Author's Note:**

> please let me know what you think. PLEASE BE GENTLE WITH ME. thank you for reading


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